


speak low if you speak love

by Azgrave



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, so'hara
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 20:23:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 115,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9564875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azgrave/pseuds/Azgrave
Summary: Maybe it’s obvious now, but it wasn’t then. Hindsight is 20/20, or so they say. (I don’t believe it, every time I look, it tells me something different.) The way that life would so subtly and inexplicably change for me. That everything insignificant would become enormous.





	1. Who You Were

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've never written anything of length, but I've got this story that I want to try and tell and I think it'd be pretty rad if you wanted to come along for the ride.

I remember my first grade teacher asking what I thought my life was going to be like when I grew up. It was part of this book of extra assignments to keep me busy while the other kids in my class struggled to grasp the careful art of reading. Part of extra assignments that I was given to keep me occupied. I could already read, was surprisingly good at it already, but was undeniably prone to getting into trouble when bored. It was something to get me thinking, get me writing (albeit, with the most horrendous spelling), get me to apply myself a little more. And, presumably, it was something that could at least give Mr. D a laugh as he looked my answer over later.

I’d wanted to be everything from an astronaut to an architect by the time I was six. And while I was in the middle of a dinosaur phase, wanting to dig them up and study them (a paleontologist I learned much later), I didn’t want to share that, guarded that love a little too zealously. So instead I’d just drawn some pictures of sports equipment, written that I wanted to grow up to be a professional athlete (something my dad loved watching on television), and turned it in.

I hadn’t been old enough at the time to realize how outrageous, how unlikely that thought was at the time. It was a pipe dream every kid seemed to have before they realized they aren’t even particularly good at sports. I wasn’t even really playing any sports then. Daisy picking in the outfield doesn’t really count, and kicking a ball down the field as a blob of childish arms and legs was hardly any better. But when I got the book back, the next day, flipping the pages to see what his response to my answer had been and what the next question for today would be, I remember feeling something big in stomach. Something I didn’t have a word for then. He’d used my favorite color (a question from two weeks prior) to stamp a small smiley under which he’d written “It would be really fun to watch you on TV when you’re older!”

Approval.

I didn’t think much about it then, I was seven years old with a new book about velociraptors from Discovery, and my parents had just gotten me a subscription to a kid’s magazine about science, and I guessed I’d have to answer what I’d do if we got a snow day this year before I could read either of those. But I couldn’t ignore forever the way that note had made me feel. The way he hadn’t told me that being a professional athlete was hard, that maybe I needed to pick something more realistic. The way he’d inadvertently given me permission to dream this big dream.

And when I stopped ignoring the way it made me feel, I learned that I started to crave it.

As I got older, sports stopped being just a thing I watched my dad watch on television. That I had carefully explained to me play-by-play while I learned when to cheer and when to be mad, and when to be nervous, and when to know we were definitely, absolutely, going to win this game. As I got older and I stopped picking daisies in the outfield, when the childish blob running rampant on the field started to become a kind of aggressive dance to watch. When sports started to be the thing my father stopped watching on television because he had games he could actually go to and watch in person. Cheering just as loud (at all the right moments), and angrily shouting at the refs (because who in their right minds thought that was offsides! Do you need to borrow some glasses!), just like he had done at home to the screen. But this time for me. To watch me win, and to watch me score, and to watch me succeed.

And as I got older, people never did stop telling me that being a professional athlete was going to be outlandishly hard. But as people started to take notice in high school of my success, of the long practice hours and the extra time spent in the gym, and the results that inevitably followed, they stopped telling me to dream a little smaller.

And when the recruitment letters started coming in the mail, when the coaches started showing up to my games, they started asking me where I planned on going.

And suddenly It was there again, that big something feeling in my stomach that didn’t have a name but definitely meant that this was the right thing. This was the right path to be on. And as signing day drew closer, with coaches still pouring offers through the mail slot, I balanced the anxiety of having to make a choice with the thrill and exhilaration that I actually had a choice to make. I was living in a world where the options were at my fingertips.

The problem with that was, there was no one universal way to know which school was the right school. Everyone has different values, different priorities, different dreams. They balance their desires with their responsibilities.

For a long time there was an assumption, at least in my family, but probably with other people too, that Georgia would be home. That it was a perfect match.

And for a long time, as I lived under the watchful, protective arms of my family, I let them assume. I’d crafted a world for myself that couldn’t be touched. A kind of quiet solitary vision that didn’t need to be shared with others. A gut instinct on which direction was forward, and which meant staying still. A feeling. Waiting for things to line up, for things to click. And I had a dream on a page that my father dug out of a very old bin the day before my final college visit that told me I wanted to be a professional athlete. A silly throwaway response that turned out to be the answer.

And that last visit, that was the answer too. Where I couldn’t explain it, but things just felt like they were ready to fall into place.

I chose to go somewhere that wasn’t Georgia. Georgia was the version of a dream that my parents thought was the answer. Was the dream I’d let them accept as the answer until I could find the answer for myself. And two weeks of passive aggressive questions culminated in one blowout fight with my mother (“Emily, have you seen their roster? They’ve got more than enough forwards, you’re never going to play. You’re going to regret this! Why won’t you just listen to us?”); a long talk about how I wasn’t abandoning my sister and how she was going to her own great things wherever she wanted to; and a quiet firm grip on the shoulder from my father. And finally acceptance.

And when signing day rolled up onto my doorstep and left its paperwork on a desk in the middle of a public (and frankly way overdone) ceremony in the school gym, I committed without another thought with a flash of cameras and the soft encouragement of my parents and the ecstatic smile of Mr. D, looking on with the rest of the school’s faculty.

And when it was over, when school ended with a flourish, and the summer ended early so I could get to a still empty campus weeks before classes started for pre-season, I drove the hundreds of miles away from home, car packed beyond the brim, already missing everything I was leaving behind, anticipating everything I was about to gain. And I could feel it again. The feeling that this was right.

This was everything I’d been waiting for.

I just didn’t know I was going to be getting more than I had asked for.

I couldn’t have known that it all would happen this way.

And maybe it’s obvious now, but it wasn’t then. Hindsight is 20/20, or so they say. (I don’t believe it, every time I look, it tells me something different.) The way that life would so subtly and inexplicably change for me. That everything insignificant would become enormous.

That everything I ever wanted was exactly what I was going to get.

That just because you get something, doesn’t mean you get to keep it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full Disclosure: This chapter's title "Who You Were" comes from Ink The Complete Soundtrack by Jamin Winans. So, credit where it's due for that. 
> 
> Also, let me know what you think. I mentioned I've got a story I wanna tell, but I definitely want your feedback on it, the good, the bad, and the (hopefully not) ugly.
> 
> Always available at http://writing-to-stay-awake.tumblr.com/


	2. Tuesday Night

_Everything starts out simply. It always does. You never see the monumental shifts coming. You don’t feel them happening until you’re already six shades to the wind and you couldn’t stop them even if you tried. They start small, they start as these seemingly insignificant things._

 

* * *

Three weeks before classes start is not the time I want to be getting to campus. Three weeks less time to spend with my friends. To spend with my family. To spend being **not** a student for just a minute. But, preseason couldn’t help but sing its siren call. 

And it’s not like I haven’t been practicing. My fitness test times are better than they’ve ever been. But let’s just be honest. Two-a-days are the worst. On the sliding scale, I’m not going to go so far as to say I’d rather write another paper on Shakespeare rather than go, but I’d probably happily do team laundry for a month. 

Take that image and let it sink in. 

And it’s not like this is typical move-in time for students, so campus is obscenely quiet, empty. Not scary per se, but definitely a little creepy. The empty brick buildings staring out, waiting for things to pick up again.  
  
Life set on pause. 

And maybe I’m just a little resentful of the fact that every other freshman on campus will get the luxury of other student volunteers to help them. Maybe I wish I had the luxury of the elevator lift to haul my stuff up a couple flights of stairs. And maybe I wish I wasn’t covered in a thick layer of sweat because it’s well over 95 in the dead of summer.

 But I’m not complaining.

 Not out loud anyway.

And I suppose I don’t have room to whine because at least I’ve got two and half weeks of having my room to myself before my roommate gets here for freshman orientation. Default choice of set-up falls to yours truly. So, of course I’m rearranging and taking the bed nearest to the window and I’m definitely getting the better choice in mattress between extra-firm and rock hard.

And at least this is the last damn box to come out of my car. 

With a overexaggerated huff, I’m practically flinging it to the floor.

And okay, so maybe I shouldn’t have just dropped things. I wasn’t even entirely sure what was in there anymore. I’d lost the ability to care about two stair trips ago, and I never ended up labeling my boxes like mom told me to about twenty times. On the bright side, that extra loud Thwap! when it hit the floor probably means it was safe to assume it was only books. 

I rationalize with myself that I’ll check it later when I forget that I should be worried that I might have just broken something. And, unfortunately, before I can reduce myself to an exhausted sweaty ball on a gross uncovered mattress, the alarm on my phone (The fourth of six. And I’m glad I took the time to set them all so early before the fact, knowing I’m always running 10 minutes late) is crooning out Carrie Underwood, and I’m trying to decide if sweat soaked grey is acceptable for my first team meeting. 

First impressions vs. motivation to get re-dressed. Battle Royal.

It takes another five minutes to settle on at least throwing on a new white t-shirt and a pair of cut off jean shorts. And maybe a little extra deodorant.

And another five minutes of rifling through duffle bags full of laundry searching for what I want. And Carrie Underwood’s long since stopped trying to sing me out of the room by the time I’m finally leaving. And it isn’t until I’m combining the careful action of locking my door, holding my phone under my chin, and trying to throw my hair up on top of my head when I realize, I only have a vague idea where I’m supposed to be going.

Fortunately, dorms are near the athletic facilities, which is about the only indication I have, but it’s plan enough. And not having to carry stuff makes this walk at least a little better in comparison. The sun, however, still hasn’t decided to call it a day, although it’s getting close, and by the time I’m reaching the door of the athletics center, I’m probably sweating through the new shirt too. And I’m debating my choice to change clothes and waste a shirt when I realize I’m following the vague sound of voices and laughter.

Walking through the gym doors I’m greeted with every pair of eyes and an abrupt silence. I check my watch, maybe a little meekly. It’s 5 after. I’m late, but not like _shoot the messenger_ late.

“Sonnett. Glad you could join us.” And at least coach sounds amused for the moment, although I can practically hear the raised eyebrow wondering if this is going to be a habit she’ll have to break. It is and it isn’t. I’d be late to my own funeral if it wasn’t mandatory attendance. Practice and games on the other hand? Different story altogether. “Take a seat, we were just waiting for the last straggler.”

And if anyone tells you that the first time meeting your new team isn’t nerve wracking (especially when they’re late to their first meeting), then they’re a great big liar and you ought to set their pants on fire. On the other hand, it’s also terribly predictable, and while sure, who my fellow freshman were going to be coming in was a mystery before, I definitely know who they are now as I’m wandering with slow steps towards the other girls. Over to the few who seemed to have been relatively quiet, obviously doing more observing than contributing to the conversation I could see when I initially stepped in through the door. Not that they’re looking terrified, no one here’s afraid to be here, but trying to figure out where you’ll fit? Well that starts from the second you step in.

Important decisions here.

Following my gut has always been plan numero uno, so I find myself taking a seat between two tall blondes. The left? _Freshman, no doubt._ The right? _Sophomore. Maybe a junior? No. Sophomore. Too happy to be back for her to be a junior._

 And as much as I’d love time for introductions, all I get time for is an awkward half wave and a sheepish, _Sorry I’m late!_ smile.

“Alright ladies, let’s get down to business.”

* * *

 

Everything I said before, I take it all back. On the sliding scale, I 100% would write another Shakespeare paper on top of doing laundry for a month instead of have preseason, because it isn’t two-a-days. For all three weeks of preseason, before classes start, we get to look forward to three-a-days starting early tomorrow morning. Repeat: Three-a-days. Literal Hell on Earth. I’m pretty sure that fire and brimstone started raining down during the hour and a half that Coach was talking.  
  
So I have that to look forward to. Or not look forward to. Perspective.

And now that we’ve gone through every single policy, procedure, rule, goal, and motivational insight into the beginning of the season, we’re free to think about how terrible tomorrow and each day after is going to be.

Tonight though, on our last night of freedom, we’re heading to a team dinner, sans coaches, at a local Mexican place. And after making brief introductions, _left blonde Sam, right blonde Allie_ , we’re all packed into a small Corolla along with two others as we follow a caravan of cars headed that way.

“—So glad you caught Coach in a good mood. You got lucky, she hates starting late.” Allie’s laughing while she says it, but there’s a hint of seriousness layered in there.

Of course, this was a realization I’d come to 40 minutes ago when Coach had added a little extra vigor to the rules section regarding time and punishments and expectations.

Turns out I hadn’t been 5 minutes late. I’d been 20 minutes late. 15 minutes early is on time, on time is late, and late is qualifications for certain death by sprints.

Something I’d have known if I’d checked my spam folder for an email containing an advance copy of the team handbook.

“Noted.” And I’m chuckling as I say it, cause the whole group is in an obviously good mood, but I also wholeheartedly get it. And I don’t exactly feel like dying anytime soon.

I’m making a mental notation to add an extra alarm when I catch Allie giving a look in the rearview mirror.  

“So…” and Allie’s tone is dropping as she swivels a little in the front seat to get a better look behind her.  “Got a boyfriend back home?” Her curiosity is practically dripping.

We get stopped at a red light as the rest of the group keeps driving ahead of us. The car shakes a little under the strain of the engine. It’s definitely seen better days. Likewise, my gut is already churning in contrast to her smile.

I’ve never been exactly…superb under on-the-spot questioning.

“Nope.” I should have realized, long before I ever set foot in the car, that this was an elaborate set-up for an unavoidable round of twenty questions.

“Okay,” she says brightly, turning back around, side-eyeing briefly with the short haired girl in the seat next to her. Allie keeps calling her pookie, but I’m pretty sure she introduced herself while climbing into the driver’s seat as Ashlyn.

One silent conversation later, and I can already see where this is going a heartbeat before Allie’s turning around in her seat again.

“Got a significant other back home?”

And I’ve never been so thankful it’s gotten dark outside to hopefully hide the way my cheeks must be burning. The heat shooting up through my ears.

I can’t decide if she thinks she’s being subtle.

“Nope.” There might be an extra pop on the “p” this time. Hoping it sounds a lot more casual than it feels.

And it’s not that it’s a lie. There’s no one at home. No baggage. No one left behind. But I’m also not an idiot, and I can obviously tell they’re just taking a roundabout way to ask the “hard hitting question” of where I fall on the Kinsey scale. And they’re wasting absolutely no time doing it. And I’m choosing to spend absolutely zero time trying to fill them in on my preferences.

Not yet anyways.

_I could tell you that I’d rather run a beep test than let a guy in my pants, but I’d rather not tell them that when I have no idea what they’ll think of it._

Allie narrows an eye for an extra second before seeming to accept my answer like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Okay. That’s cool. Definitely easier when you aren’t missing someone. Preseason really sucks when you’ve got someone trying to talk to you every night and all you want to do is get to sleep.” Ashlyn sneaks in a quick jab at Allie’s boyfriend, laughing as Allie smacks her in the arm. And then she’s dutifully moving on, equally asking Sam, lest someone be left out of the prying questions club. Then she continues on, joking with Ashlyn and the other older dark haired girl, Ali, who’s been happily texting away on her phone while Allie directs conversation. There’s a definite feeling of closeness bordering on intrusion just for being a part of it when it comes to their friendship vibe. But Allie keeps springing around from person to person so quickly it becomes obvious that this is just their dynamic and I’m not interrupting anything.

And maybe it’s a little quiet on my end, content to play call and response, _Where’d you come from? “_ Georgia.” _Position?_ “Forward.” _Get out, well good luck with Alex, she’s pretty competitive, but hey, ya never know. How’d you end up making your final decision to choose coming here?_ “Soccer, Duh. And campus, I guess. I had a really good visit.” But frankly I’m a little too tired and overwhelmed with everything to offer up much more that. And I’m content to settle into the freshman role of observing when Allie switches gears to talk about a road trip last year where the charter bus got them lost in the middle of BFE Alabama and Alex almost threw up before she offered the driver her own tablet for directions.

And really, let’s take another honest second. I’m thinking about how much I could really go for a taco. Or six. I haven’t eaten since before I started unloading my car and that was _hours ago._ The veritable kraken grumbling around in my stomach is taking great pleasure in reminding me.

And then another minute or two later, after another red light and a near miss on a left turn that puts Ashlyn firmly in the “Don’t allow to drive” mental list I’ve decided to start keeping, we’re pulling into the dimly lit parking lot of a rundown looking building with a flickering neon sign. Allie’s quick to start assuring the group, “I know what it looks like, but it’s the best. _Don’t give me that look Pookie. The food truck on Park St. Blah Blah Blah._ Don’t listen to her. She’s insane. Kelley found this place when she was out with Alex and Tobin one night testing every restaurant in the city and preseason dinner has been here ever since.” She takes a second, looking around conspiratorially, “Or at least that’s what they say. If you ask me, Kelley was just looking for a place that wouldn’t card her and Alex and Tobin were naïve enough to follow.” She winks once for good measure and then she turns to play the role of shepherd once everyone is out of the car, nudging us inside while Ashlyn’s still trying to debate the merits of the food truck to a set of deaf ears.

_And once again, last to arrive. Good job Sonnett. A Plus for effort this time though!_

Of course the traffic gods conspired against us, leaving us as the back of the pack, but it’s another chance to observe the dynamic as the tables are split and two large groups of girls sit, chattering loudly.

The right table is already full, the majority of the freshman with a few of the team veterans talking together as a waiter interrupts each in turn as he drops off drink orders. The aforementioned Tobin, Kelley, and Alex all sitting closely together. Kelley is immediately recognizable from the fishbowl margarita she’s all too happily taking a large drink of being she launches into an animated discussion. Tobin and Alex are laughing along, though it’s too loud inside to catch anything that either are saying.

We end up on the left, a large circular table with, as it turns out, most of the upperclassmen, who are decidedly more animated with their conversation. And Allie immediately starts launching into a spiel, taking introductions out of your hands. “Emily. Sonnett. Forward. Georgia. We all remember, right? Coach had that big talk when she signed?” A couple of eyes spark at the last tidbit, taking the time to gauge who’s in front of them more fully. _The Competition._ And then Allie’s rushing on, “And this is Sam. Mewis. Mid….”

And okay, so I’m dazing out of this conversation. I know I should be paying more attention, focusing, learning who I’m playing with, when they apparently already know things about me. But…I don’t think I could if I tried. I’m a little too mortified to know that apparently there was an actual organized discussion about me. That everyone here has at least a vague idea of who I am and I don’t have much more than a roster picture to throw together with a name. That and there has to be at least five different conversations happening all at once right now as everyone resumes where they were before Allie interrupted. Sam is looking just as overwhelmed, deer in the headlights look saying it all as she locks eyes for a second and it’s a lot of effort to bounce around between everyone, trying to take everything in, even though they seem to be doing so effortlessly.

And, if there wasn’t enough pressure to keep up, in between ordering a (relatively) conservative amount of food and actually getting to eat, the entirety of the table turns again, apparently all curious about the same thing. Spotlight on Sam and I.

“So, do you drink?” It’s an upperclassman who hadn’t been paying much attention at all before; something I was really okay with, and now find myself just trying to remember her name.

And maybe I’m nodding before I really consider the question, too wrapped up in whether it’s Morgan or Megan, because this seemingly unmotivated question is surely just a lead in.

“Cool, we’re having a party at my place in a couple weeks.” Megan. Definitely Megan. “You should come. One of these kids can give you a ride I’m sure. I’m off campus, but it’s not that far.”

Nodding, some stuttering. And a “Y-eah, Yeah sure. That sounds like fun.” And Megan looks satisfied as everyone goes back to their own conversations again. A strangely startling seamless flow of conversational tempo that makes a little less than zero sense to you.

And this is the part where maybe you’re wishing I could give you more of a play by play, but you’ll just have to settle for my giving you the most important details. Time is precious after all.

And food did arrive, which takes precedence.

Food which, really, was phenomenal. Allie can have her credit for that piece of information. It turns out Amy, Christen, Crystal, and Lynn, just from our table are who I’ll have to try and beat out for a forward position. On top of Alex and Kelley, who are sitting across the room. And everyone? Well in-between baskets of chips and food, they started taking bets on the odds of, well, everything. Freshman starters, who would end up with injuries, whether Kelley or Heather was going to be taking home the beep test crown this year. Even on who was going to be the first to puke tomorrow. Because apparently, bets are what they do. And maybe there’s a sinking suspicion that latched on as conversation continued that someone was betting on if any of the freshman weren’t straight, a la car ride conversation coming to mind _._ And personally, I’m not offended so much as intrigued as to who’s going to owe who what when the truth is finally out there. I can tell Allie’s involved, that much is obvious. She’s got a book worth of deals going on right now. Other conspirators though? That’s more of an interesting question.

Mostly, though, the important thing is that the chaos and energy of the night gives me a certain reassurance. Because I’m starting to feel a lot more confident that this is an “anything goes” group, so long as there isn’t any drama. And as out of the comfort zone as this could feel right now, in a room full of strangers, watching as Allie teases Ashlyn for the umpteenth time tonight, I’ve got no doubts that this is exactly where I want to be.  

 

_And, you can keep a secret right? Maybe…just maybe I was a little bit intrigued by the freckled-face that was across the room. The one who spent most of the night smirking, laughing at something that Alex or Tobin was saying, but who I noticed staring at least a handful of times, eyes peering just over the lip of her glass as she'd take another shallow swallow, wearing a look that I had no idea how to decipher, but that definitely made me want to try and figure out._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full Disclosure: This chapter's title "Tuesday Night" comes from Russ Liquid. So, credit where it's due for that.


	3. All Systems Go

Let’s get one thing straight. Any time before the sun rises can be considered, and rightly so, the Devil’s hours. So when Carrie starts crooning from beside the bed at 4:45am to start Day One, I want you to believe me when I tell you how tempting it is to give in to the urge to curl into a ball while screaming obscenities into the underside of my pillow while I wish for either a) my life to just be over so I can just go back to sleep or b) for Coach’s life to be over so I never had to wake up in the first place.

Neither of those two are actual viable options though.

I know what I signed up for. Really, she’s just doing her job. So even if I hate it, I can’t resent her for it. Not too much anyway.

Not that I’ve even got the time for that right now. If I spend any longer debating the bane of my entire existence I’m going to be late. Again. So rather than let Carrie restart her list of punishments for cheating, I’m high jumping it out of bed, searching for my shoes, and brushing my teeth with a certain degree of haste (in no particular order and potentially all at one time).

Call me lazy if you want, but sleeping in everything I’d need to be wearing for today was probably the smartest thing I’ve done since I got here because I’m slipping out the door five minutes later.  And when I finish struggling (It’s early. Judge me.) to lock the door behind me, I’ve still got an easy 15 minutes to get over to the gym. Score one: Sonnett.

I’m considering forcibly holding my eyelids open and have only managed to stumble once on the stairwell down (which is a victory in and of itself) when I find myself running into Sam and one of the other freshman who’d sat across the room last night as we’re heading out the door of Wick Hall. Sam looks about as rough as I feel and just nods once in acknowledgment as she wipes thickly at her eyes and tries to suppress a yawn. The other girl, (my mental roster list failing me as my brain gets stuck) takes one look at my face and chuckles, waiting about 10 seconds too long to explain. “You could have left the toothpaste in the bathroom,” before she points to a smear on my cheek. Actually now that I’m aware of it, it does feel a little crusty.

On the sliding scale though, if that’s all that’s gone wrong so far, this morning is turning out to be slightly above average as far as reality versus expectations.

“At least you know I brushed them.”

And I’m rubbing away the incriminating evidence and starting to laugh back before Sam gets her bearings enough to look around to get a closer inspection of what’s going on behind her.

From various walkways leading to other buildings a couple of others join up, mostly satisfied to walk in sullen sleepy silence.

“Nice save,” she whispers conspiratorially as Sam continues to look confused before giving up entirely, and it’s enough to pull another easy laugh. “Lindsey, by the way. Didn’t get a chance to talk last night. Allie and company were hoarding you two rays of sunshine for themselves.”

Can’t debate with that one.

“Emily.”

And then companionable silence again as the group trudges up towards the main facility, footsteps scuffing softly against the pavement. An outbreak of yawns taking hold at one point, getting passed back and forth.

“--Man I hate the first day!”

And of course it would be Allie’s voice to break the silence. She’s coming in from the left, Ashlyn and Ali and a girl, Whitney, from last night trudging along behind her, looking irate.

“Like, what’s even the point of getting us up this early if we all still have to get physicals. We can’t even do anything until that’s over.” And she looks, literally, like a perfect ball of energy, bouncing her weight from foot to foot as she walks on. Like maybe she never even ended up going to sleep last night. (Wonder what the betting odds would be for that?)

“Allie seriously?”

And that would be Alex, who’s wandered in from the right, Tobin and Kelly in tow. The voice is distinct, unmistakable. She looks as tired as the rest of us. And if that catches her attention, Alex’s face continues, practically screaming “If you don’t shut up, I’ll shut you up,” with a perfect following dollop of, “It’s the actual ass crack of dawn. How are you even awake enough to be thinking?”

Message received there’s no response in-kind, but Allie’s practically vibrating in her silence.

Alex looks satisfied, but ready to pounce in case of another word.

Tobin just keeps stretching her arms, cracking her back, fidgeting with her hands. Restless.

Kelley’s entirely silent, but she’s got a warm smile, all tight lipped but tugged up at the edges, looking quite the opposite of tired. And when everyone converges on the doors to the building, she holds the door open with a soft “after you.”

For the life of me I can’t figure out she ends up in front of the group to be the one holding it open, but can’t help but laugh when she follows in close behind me, letting it shut before Ashlyn can reach out to grab it as she walks smack into the edge.

Her chuckling, low and grumbly with a morning rasp is unapologetically magnetic.

\---------------------------------------

The experience of peeing in a cup while someone watches for the first time is a 0/10 experience. Would Not Recommend. NCAA rules are a real joy, let me tell you.

The first session of the day turns out to be easy. We’re getting physicals. Taking mandatory drug tests. Talking with staff about what our individual training plan will entail based upon this morning’s assessments. It’s absolutely riveting.

By which I mean it’s not.

But it does give everyone an opportunity to really start waking up. To shift our brains out of neutral and into gear for the day. Which apparently I need since the athletic trainer, while checking for any potential problem areas, poked fun at the fact that there was toothpaste on my shirt. Apparently Lindsey had neglected to tell me about that one and I’m wondering if she just didn’t say anything, or really didn’t notice. For some reason I’m leaning towards the former, wondering if she’s laughing about it now. Something, I’ll have you know, I fully intend to pay back at some point and in some way.

That’ll have to wait though, cause the clean bill of health I’ve just gotten means I’m free to go. And I don’t think anyone’s more excited than I am that it’s breakfast time.

“Sonnett! Hang back a minute. I’ve got something to discuss with you.”

And just like that, I’m nervous and wary. Coach’s voice sending an eerie shiver down my spine.

Well that was a swift way to dampen the mood of the morning.

I mean, I wasn’t only on time, being 15 minutes early, but I was exactly 7 minutes earlier than that today. Even wracking my brain I’ve got no idea what I’ve done to already land myself in trouble this time.

Rather than avoid the inevitable though, I’m walking back to Coach, hands dug deep in my sweatpants pockets while she motions for someone else before heading towards an open door.

We all walk inside. It’s not much more than a sparse spare office for training staff.

“I’m sorry to keep you. I should have brought this up after our team meeting last night and I wish that I had been able to speak with you about this on an occasion at a time prior to your arrival to campus.” Well this is not the way you want to start a discussion. And while I’m tempted to point out that I was a phone call or email away, I’m at least smart enough to bite my tongue for the time being. Especially since we’re not alone in the room. Becky, Julie, Kelley, Ali, they’ve all filed in behind me, quiet, looking curiously between Coach and I. The confusion I have for the moment though is fairly instant, and certainly just as strong as theirs. The tone of her voice though, the imperial way in her speech lets me just know I’m about to be hit with something entirely unexpected that I’m probably not going to like.

Then, abruptly and seemingly out of place, there’s a tendril of a thought starting to click into place as I’m realizing who’s here. _One of these things is not like the others, one of these things just doesn’t belong._ “…Emily, I’m aware that during the recruiting process we worked quite hard to get you to look at us as your program of choice because we valued you for your ability, your tenacity, and your drive and what that could contribute to our team. The fact that you made an excellent goal scorer and team leader notwithstanding. Would you agree with that assessment?”

I’m nodding affirmatively before I end up finding my voice. My stomach is starting to churn uncomfortably.

“Of course. We talked about some things. I think we both agreed on work ethic being the most important thing for the time being.”

 _Can you tell which thing is not like the others?_ “Yes, I’d agree with that. And I quite stand by that idea now. However, what we as a program need right now is not another goal scorer. As I’m sure you’re well aware, we’ve actually got quite a few very talented players already taking that role.” I’ve got an uncanny feeling that I know exactly where the discussion is about to turn. I’m shifting back onto my heels some, crossing my arms, trying to take this in with what I can only hope is an impassive face.  

“I’ve had some discussion with our staff. We’ve gone through a lot of game footage that your prior school made available to us.  We spent some time analyzing and…what we’d like to do, starting day one, is to use the...the athleticism, the aggression that seemed to make you so effective as a forward, in another role.” _If you guessed this thing is not like the others, then you’re absolutely…Right!_ “We’d like to try you out in the back as a defensive player.”

Breathe in. Breathe out. Give it a second. Let it sink in.

“You won’t be the only one that would be taking on a new responsibility, but we’re really excited about the possibilities this could open up to us if we can get this nailed down and operating quickly.”

Just like that.

My mother’s voice is bouncing against the inside walls of my skull. Her knowing assessment. Did I expect something different? Did I expect to see this coming?

“Would you be willing to take on that role Emily?” There’s a certain softness that smooths over the once bullish tones. A certain trace of what might be considered hopeful expectation.

My ears are throbbing, pulsating. The eyes and ears in the room are waiting.

One breath in. Time is passing immeasurably slow for just this instant. My mouth is dry. My stomach has fallen to my ankles.

I set my jaw. Clamping down hard for just the slightest moment. Every idea of letting my mother tell me she was right all along being crushed between my teeth. I refuse to believe that my only chances at greatness are by following the path I’ve always walked.

It’s not as though I only ever dreamt of scoring goals out on the pitch. The dream was just to be there. To be a part of something. And, honestly, there’s something at least semi-enticing about her sales pitch.

I steel myself. I breathe out.

All in all, it takes less than three seconds. Less than three seconds to breathe in thinking one thing, and breathe out thinking another.

There’s a lot you can handle if you just let the specifics go. A lot you can gain if you’re just willing to try.

“Of course, Coach. I mean, I wish I’d known before, when I could have had some time to prepare on my own.” Subtle dig, in a place she can’t fault, in a way she can’t punish. “But, whatever the team needs, I’ll do it. That’s what I’m here for”

And there’s a sudden tension I hadn’t noticed releasing from the room. An uncomfortable state where no one knew what was coming next. Ali’s grinning now like she’s gained a new lamb to shepherd. Becky’s nodding formally, presumably running through every detail of what’s going to need to be worked on. Julie just looks happy that no one seems to be in any sort of trouble. Kelley has that look again, just on the edge of something before it turns into a conservative grin.  

“Glad to hear it. We’ll get you started later this afternoon. We’re, obviously going to look at getting you some extra time with our defensive coaches, but I’d also like to see you practicing hard with these ladies. They’re incredibly smart, they’re incredibly dedicated, and I know that with their assistance, you’ll be able to make an extremely quick adjustment and transition.”

And Coach is actually offering a brief, if constrained look of tepid exuberance.

“We’ll be doing fitness testing following breakfast, making sure that everyone’s come in with at least the minimum level and moving on from there. You should all grab something to eat. We’ll see you soon. You’re dismissed for now.”

And just like that. My appetite is gone.

Which should tell you something. And, as surprised as I am, how confused, that life as a Forward just so suddenly became life as a Defender, that is unequivocally not the reason why I’ve lost my desire to eat.

It does, however, have everything to do with the fact that I’ve just been given a preemptive reminder that fitness tests have a minimum and I’ve got no idea what they are. Now, I not only know I must learn an entirely new position, but I have to make sure I can even qualify to do it.

Not that I’ve ever backed down from a challenge. I’d just be a lot more comfortable if I knew what that challenge entailed.

The sliding scale of the day just took a turn below average. It’s receiving a lukewarm reception at best.

We all leave the office with a nod when Ali practically saunters over. Bumping hips lightly.

“Well, welcome to group Em. That was a…surprise you handled pretty well.”

And I’m shaking my head and nodding thanks when Julie slings an arm around my shoulders.

“Yeah. But Hey! You don’t have to worry about Alex murdering you in your sleep now!”

And while I’m remembering the exchange from this morning, I’m not sure I knew that was a thing I was going to have to actually worry about. And I can’t exactly help the semi-confused half laugh that just falls out there.

“I just wanna play, ya know?” And they’re nodding like, really they actually do get it. Like they understand that none of this has settled in and it’s important to just try and take things and run with them right now. “And it’s not like I’ll never get another opportunity at goal. I’ll just have different records to break now.”

And Ali’s laughing brightly now. “Big head on them shoulders I see!”

And then we’re back out with the others as they’re packed in groups around the room, all having started eating while I got the privilege of a life-altering meeting with Coach.

Oh Joy.

“Hey! Sonnett! Over here!” And for some reason that I’m sure I’ll know soon enough, Allie’s calling out, eagerly patting the conspicuously empty space next to her. And it’s not exactly like I can really pretend I didn’t hear her so I’m dropping myself down into the aforementioned space, across from Tobin and Alex who look, unconvincingly, like they aren’t interested at all, while they’re each nibbling on granola and a small bowl of fruit.

“So. Dish. Everyone wants to know what Coach had to say.”

Well that didn’t take long.

\----------------------------------------------------------

Gossip with Allie, while the other’s not-so-subtly eavesdropped, was, in a somewhat strange way, impeccably easy. Mostly because she took the facts as they were told, and then she didn’t pry. She didn’t ask how I felt about it. She didn’t try to figure out whether I was suddenly harboring a kind of bitter resentment. It was an intuitive response, one I only realized after-the-fact, was because of course she’d know what to say. 

Her brightness about it all was a kind of bastion.

One that spoke about opportunities to learn new things, rather than doubt leaving old strengths.

Then, when she could obviously tell I’d been held hostage long enough, she let me free to find food.

Breakfast, which had been delivered to the training room for us (perks of showing up to campus early is having everything provided for the time being), contained a variety from the downright junk food to a powerlifter’s dream. I, smartly kept it light, keeping in mind the knowledge that fitness tests were coming. Taking a cue as I snuck looks at the others who sat around us. Christen, who nibbled at some fruit while she talked animatedly with Kelley, who worked her way slowly through a miniature sized shake of something green. Alex and Tobin, who had finished their granola and fruit while they eavesdropped with little to no modesty made no move to grab more.  The other upperclassmen followed in similar suit. And really, I had obviously watched them all eat last night. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to know that stuffing myself would have been an enormous mistake. One that only a true rookie would make.

One I could see one or two other hungry mouths making. Poor souls.

If nothing else, I pride myself on learning my lessons quickly.

Lessons which get to be put into quick implementation, because with little warning, the clock struck metaphorical 12 as coaching staff rounded us up to begin our second session of the day.

And I assure you, fitness testing is as terrible as it sounds.

The details of which, for your sake and mine, I’ll keep brief. Who do you think wants to relive that experience?

…Okay. Let’s make that an obviously rhetorical question. Because the answer, pretty obviously, is Kelley would love to relive that. Kelley who’s been nothing but nice, but who, for whatever reason, hasn’t said much (to me at least). Kelley who, despite her laugh, and her smile, and her general easy way I see when she’s with others, is also absolutely terrifying when she decides that it’s time to get to work.

We took our strict measurements first, through which nothing was particularly difficult. During which everyone mostly anxiously twitched and fiddled and stretched. Biding our time until they called for cardiovascular assessment.

I’ve never, in the entirety of my life, understood something so starkly and so suddenly. The intense debate between who would reign as beep test queen during dinner last night was flashing like a neon sign in Vegas.

Kelley was, in simple terms, a kind of freak robot machine.

In the off chance that you’re curious of the finer points, Allie managed to bank a Snickers bar and a IOU trip to Starbucks off of Whitney and Megan when Kelley outlasted Heather by a round in the Beep test. Though, she owed Ashlyn and Ali a joint collective bag of Sour Patch Kids for their prediction in Higher or Lower for how long she’d end up going.

In my own way, I couldn’t help but feel invested too. Not that I’d made a bet at all. And not that I was anywhere in contention for the win. But she was. The absolute iron look of focus as she paced herself was entrancing. I wanted to know how far she would go, how far she would push herself, just as much I wanted to know how far I could go.

The short of it is this: I ended up watching her victory from a perfect vantage point on the floor where I lay dying when I’d dropped out at the upper end of the middle of the pack.

I was decidedly happy just to have finished without my lungs exploding or my heart failing and keeping the entirety of the contents of my stomach to myself (though barely). The latter of which Allie looked decidedly dejected about when she helped to pull me up off the floor, making me about 95% certain that she bet on me to be first man down.

I really don’t blame her. I definitely came close.

Alas, that prestigious award was actually won by Heather, whose immediate need, following her second place finish, was a trash can. 

She bowed with a great flourish as everyone laughed.

Kelley gave her a solid pat on the back before she dropped into recovery position (aka spread eagle like a dying person) on the floor. We locked eyes for just a second. She just flashed a smile and a thumbs up before turning to groan and whine lowly with Alex.

There’s something to be said about a team bonding through shared suffering.

\-------------------------------------------------

I wouldn’t admit it if you called me out for saying it, but a pre-dawn first session does have one benefit.

One.

There’s absolutely time for a nap.

Time that Sam, Lindsey, and I all took great pleasure in taking. All of us packing into my room (I apparently had the room on the lowest floor) and immediately crashing. No need for blankets, or sheets, or even general comfort. One second we’re talking about how our first practice later might go, the next second Sam’s snoring softly sitting straight up on my desk chair and Lindsey’s fully spread out on what will eventually be my roommate’s bed.

I didn’t need an invitation to join that party.

More importantly though, is when there’s so few good sides to waking up so early, it makes it all the worse when they get unceremoniously interrupted.

It’s a fanatical heavy pounding on the door that sends me jumping straight out of bed, landing on my feet.

“—Come on! Open up! What’s taking so long. Who do I gotta be to get your attention!”

And with that my heart attack can subside.

And I’m opening up the door and there’s Allie, Kelley standing behind her with a close-lipped smirk. Their laughter is hard and quick when they take in what I’m positive must be my absolute dishevelment.

“Well good morning princess, did we wake you from your beauty sleep?”

Then they’re letting themselves in, and I’m going to the dresser, taking a look at myself in the mirror there. The sleep lines are especially heavy on my forehead. Where the hell did that circle there even come from?

“Hey now. You’re the one who came up to my room, interrupting our nap.”

I certainly can’t forget the way Lindsey had sprang to attention and Sam nearly fell out of the chair.

_How’d they even get in the building? They don’t live here?_

“Ah yeah, that. A little birdy let me know where I might find you. Nobody has your phone number yet so this seemed to be the best option.” Kelley’s hanging back by the door while Allie circles around to take a seat in the other chair. “We came to grab you, we’re riding over to the field in a minute, figured we’d give you a lift. Get you up to speed sooner rather than later right?” She looks thoughtful for a second before she grins. “Besides, who wouldn’t want to spend extra time with this beautiful face.”

I can’t help it. I’m chucking my pillow at her before I can stop myself.

There’s a mad scramble for 30 seconds or so. Then we’re both just laughing in a heap on the floor.

“Come on then Frosh.” And suddenly Kelley’s standing there, offering a hand. “All aboard. Let’s go. Grab your bag.”

She’s pulling me up with a deceptive ease that her size doesn’t show.

 “I see how it is Kel. Just leave me on the floor! Why not, right? See if I ever bet on you again!” Allie’s still on the floor, staring with an exaggerated pout. Lindsey and Sam look like they’re stuck somewhere between entertained and confused.

“Don’t forget to lock the door behind you kids!” Kelley’s calling out while pushing on my shoulder. Ignoring Allie’s protests.

Pushing us towards the door.

And that’s that. Like it wasn’t just them somehow getting into the dorm. Like it wasn’t just them barging into my room. Like I didn’t just get woken from the most deeply needed nap ever. Like this was just some everyday occurrence that happens all the time.  Like we aren’t still perfect strangers who met yesterday.

And when I look back on it, somehow, I just know that I won’t even care. Because, even though Allie will eventually catch up,in these few moments Kelley and I have alone, I’m barely noticing she’s absent. The silence should be screaming volumes. Allie’s witty comments so common as to be expected now. Constantly filling the empty space.  But I’m too distracted.

Too preoccupied by a set of freckles and a hard jaw, set to fire.  

And then suddenly it's Kelley filling the voluminous silence, pushing everything else out with a kind of unwavering and unapologetic quality. 

“I know a thing or two about change. And I don’t know how you really feel about it. I doubt you really know how you feel about it. But let’s go make the best of it. I got a feeling about you kid. I’ve seen the footage. I see what they see.”

And let’s just say when she looks at me, it’s decidedly not about the need to learn a new position in three weeks that has my stomach simultaneously climbing and falling, tying itself into a knot.

_It’s something else entirely._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full Disclosure: This chapter's title "All Systems Go" comes from Schoolboy/James Egbert from the album Silver Lining. So, credit where it's due for that.


	4. Without Having to Ask

The first time I found a girl attractive in middle school I was literally knocked off my feet with the abrupt audacity of it. The way it snuck up on me. The way that it actually made me trip over my shoes. My first understanding of _Oh, that’s what that feels like,_ while ungracefully tumbling down into a sprawl. I never even ended up speaking to the girl then; I mean, it was middle school after all and I was a little confused about what was happening then; Which was probably wise anyways when she saw me take a dive down a half a flight of stairs, but that’s not the important part. The important part is that I discovered a fact about myself at such an out of place time.

I am literally unstable on my feet at the worst of times.

Especially when girls are involved.

I think you can understand that. We’ve all been there right?

I know that we’re leading different lives, you and I. And I don’t know what experiences you’ve had. And you’ve been around for so few hours of mine, but, I’m hoping you can follow me for just a second. I’m hoping there’s a way that I can somehow explain, that I can somehow make you understand the feeling that I don’t have proper words for.

What I’m trying to say is, in another life, in another world, I think I’d be flailing for balance while simultaneously wanting to throw up on the pavement as we walk towards the car (Kelley’s or Allie’s, I couldn’t tell you at this point) while Kelley is speaking to me.

My nervous stomach has created quite its own share of noise over the years. My inability to form appropriate words has been a threat that’s unmistakably real when I’ve found myself in these incredibly pesky up-close predicaments.

Not that I’m in them all too often.

Or hardly ever at all.

But this time, when Kelley says we’re going to go make the best of things, I stay firmly on my feet. And when Kelley says she’s got a feeling about me, my nervous stomach keeps its contents resolutely to itself. Instead of throwing a rave, it’s settling to an uneasy slow churn. And all of that is amazing because for once in my life, for the first time in my life, I know exactly what this feeling is. A sort of hopeful, but entirely unclear optimism. And the best part, the most important part, is I’m not tripping down a flight of stairs, I’m not floundering trying to find the right words to say back.

For once in my life, I know exactly what the right response is. And that’s an unapologetic acceptance of the help being offered, regardless of anything else.

Which is why by the time Allie does catch up to us (It is in fact her car, and we have been locked out until Allie has firmly declared her feelings on being ditched while Kelley just laughs and Allie’s vocabulary continues to expand to bright new places.) we’re already knee deep in discussion on where to start working. And even though I’m unwittingly establishing an inexorable draw towards the constellations of freckles gracing her cheeks, for the moment at least I’m far more drawn to what she has to say.  Establishing a rapport that flows with uncanny ease while we talk soccer.

By the time we’re in the stadium for the first time and I’ve taken my first look around in wonder, and all three of us have our cleats laced up, she’s already running through the list of things to work on. A list which goes by as quickly as the time we’ve got to ourselves. Quick-paced drills intermixed with questions on where we’ve played, and what we’ve done. A whole new, and more exciting twenty questions while watching the playful teasing between Kelley and Allie and wondering if she’s just this at ease with everyone.

It isn’t until Allie trots off, yelling “Pookie!” that the two of us get another moment alone though, plopping down on the grass just outside the box. She huffs exaggeratedly while she smears the thick film of sweat on her upper brow, wiping it on the side of her sock.

We sit in silence. I have no idea what to say, and honestly I’m still out of breath. But it’s not uncomfortable. If anything, it’s strangely thick but warm. Kelley looks content in the sun, which is almost funny with the paleness of her skin, before she starts chewing at her lip. Obviously juggling words in her mouth before saying them.

“Coach doesn’t do such a great job of announcing things. She should have told you coming into this what the deal was. It’s not really fair on your part. She knew exactly what she doing, choosing what to tell you and what not to. I think that’s wrong.” I can tell from the tenor of her voice, the low murmur, that this is something she feels she shouldn’t be out just proclaiming to the world.  Not that any of what she’s saying is a surprise to me, beyond the fact that it’s her saying it. That it’s her going up and throwing in a negative opinion about our coach on the very first day. She takes another second to think, to chew over what she wants to say before pressing on, “I know what it’s like to want to be out front. To want to grab goals. But this is important too. So I just want to let you know, I’m not here because she asked me to help you.  And I’m glad you decided to come. I’d have felt pretty dumb if I had showed up and you told me to screw off or something.”

She’s laughing at the end of it, obviously trying to lighten the mood some, but it sounds a little nervous. For some reason that I can’t grasp. Especially when she’s been nothing but confident and collected in every situation.

And I want to tell her that this has actually been fun. That watching her work is unbelievable. That I don’t even understand how she’s doing what she’s doing when she half ran herself to death not that long ago.  I want to ease whatever is causing the tension she feels. But my jaw is being uncooperative.

And all I end up getting out is, “Of course I came.”  

Like I’m the absolute lamest.

Then suddenly the bubble is crashed as Tobin comes cutting in to steal Kelley away with Alex following behind her, handing Kelley a water bottle as she moves to stand up.

“Kel. I swear, you can’t leave me alone with her. Your roommate wants to literally murder me.” Tobin’s swiveling around Kelley, keeping her firmly planted in-between her and Alex.

Alex isn’t really chasing her around in a circle, but she’s definitely looking like she’s got a spring in her step.

“Don’t be so dramatic Tobin, I said I’d settle for taking your first-born.”

Kelley rolls her eyes, looking first and foremost at me. A look that says _we’ll finish this later, I have to decide if I need to deal with the children or be one of them._

“What’d she do Al…and this better not be another incident with your sunglasses.

And it’s when I’m standing up, dusting myself off from the grass that I notice who’s been observing the field. Coach has been standing off, just watching things unfold across the field. She takes the time to nod before she walks off towards where the athletic trainer is setting up water for today’s afternoon training session.

_Speak of the Devil and he shall appear._

Or she in this instance.

But I don’t have the time to think about what it is that she may have seen of who even knows how much.

It’s time to prepare for another session as though I haven’t literally already just sweat through my shirt a second time. Although, it’s kind of funny, because even though we spent our time working hard, (I’m acutely aware of a sort of exhaustion), I hardly feel tired at all. Not when Kelley’s still all energy, simultaneously laughing while running a ball around the field, passing it off between both Tobin and Alex, who I suppose have resolved whatever issue was at hand in lightning-round fashion.

When a ball clips my heel, and Lindsey’s walking up with a smirk, Sam ambling up just behind, still looking a tad sleep-touched but ready to warm up herself, I find that I’m not a single bit jealous of how they’ve spent their afternoon. Because napping when I could be a part of this? Well I’ll just take a hard pass on that for now.

For every single reason that you’re thinking of..

And when we’re divided off into groups, Coach pairing me off with Becky and JJ and a couple of mids, I find Kelley’s catching my eye from across the field with a terrible wink, grinning. And without hesitation, I’m signaling back with an equally cheesy _atta boy_ fist pump that has her laughing, because we’re essentially just repeating everything we’ve just run through on a larger scale; so I know that I’ve got this.

Inexplicably. I just know.

And I spend every moment tearing across the field proving it.

* * *

 

And this. This is how it goes.

For three weeks.

Every day we wake, stumbling out of our dorms into the dark, into the pre-dawn, shuffling with sore legs and aching feet across what’s somehow, after such a short time, become our campus. Muffling our yawns behind tired hands as the great gaping windows of the unused classrooms and lecture halls look down at us.  Filing into the training center as Allie verbally theorizes what the programming will be for the entirety of the day before we begin weightlifting each morning. Alex taking one last yawn before she’s awake enough to function as we stretch out. Everyone else taking one last moment, one last breath before we throw the switch of the day, before we’re ready to re-engage, to buckle down. Getting through another session. Rewarded by a short meal where each day the tables become quieter as the exhaustion sets in. Where every last bit of energy starts being conserved to tackle the early pre-noon conditioning session. From full field sprints to cross country style distance work, we’re running through conditioning like there’s hell underfoot and a price to pay. And just and only when we think that we can’t take any more, when our bodies are set to give out and give in, we’re mercifully released.

Which, without argument quickly becomes the most quantifiably praised time of day, as the sun reaches its peak, the heat scorching over the pitch. The time when, after early wake times and increasingly brutal fitness programming, almost the entirety of the team takes full advantage of the opportunity to rest, to recover, and, frankly, to nap, like there’s salvation hidden somewhere between the folds of the sheets of our beds.

Not that I’ve been indulging in the full benefit of that temporary respite. Not that I’ve been able to take any advantage at all.

_Not that I really want to._

Not when every day, 45 minutes after conditioning releases, never a single minute late, there’s a sharp rapping of knuckles on my door. Kelley leading volunteers of choice, showing up to throw in some extra work. Becky, JJ, Whitney, Allie, Ali, Ashlyn, Alyssa. A constant stream of people with a veritable wealth of experience who quickly stop being strangers, just names and numbers with pictures on a roster, and start becoming something more like friends. Like people I’ve known my entire life. Who are quickly becoming closer than people I actually **have** known my entire life.

And then there’s Tobin and Alex, who surprisingly and without reason, become the first in line. And we can speculate: Maybe Tobin just loves to play that much, the incessant twitching, the movement whenever she doesn’t have a ball at hand. Maybe Alex, incessantly grumpy in the morning quickly ready to throw out a side-eye Alex, was willing enough to at least follow along with Tobin, who she seemed inseparable from. Maybe they just decided if this was how Kelley was choosing to spend her days, then it was only natural for them to show up too.  I’ll never really know the reason they started showing up each day. Would come following just a few steps back, ready to train like we hadn’t just called Mercy at the end of conditioning.

Surprisingly, or maybe unsurprisingly, Sam and Lindsey decide despite the everyday knocks, they still prefer my room far and above their own to crash in. Which, though I’ve never asked, I think can be attributed to the fact that they live an additional two floors up and just can’t bring themselves to climb that many stairs. And besides, it doesn’t take long after the cursory acknowledgements for both of their eyes to close again and slip quickly back asleep while I’m grabbing my gear and leaving for the stadium. Somehow ready to put in an extra hour and a half of work before practice even starts.

_The first day had been a pleasant surprise, of course._

_The second day an unspoken question of whether this was going to become a thing when Kelley showed up grinning._

By the third day, I just stopped locking the door behind me entirely. Stopped taking even the energy to perform the most basic of tasks when there was no one on campus besides other athletes and faculty around. Taking the issue of locking up out of Sam and Lindsey’s hands when they’d finally resign themselves to joining me out on the pitch for full-team practice. Out to the pitch where I’d already spent a good amount of time that afternoon talking through new information with Alex, or Tobin, or Kelley, each explaining their due part at any one time. Pointing out where each cog in the machine should be functioning. Finding their own unique ways of helping to not only apply new skills (running through drills, going through situations, playing mock defense), but also to simply expand my entire view of the game.  

Everything done in a way that actually makes total sense as things begin to fall together. As the pieces start to knit under the watchful eyes of Coach who says nothing at all, but who takes the time to show up early and observe. To nod once in our direction as a greeting, and once again if she sees something she likes. A sort of tacit approval.

And if I told you I’m exhausted, that evening ice baths and morning hot packs before lifting, and foam rolling and stretching all the times in between aren’t enough to satisfy my need for a deep recovery on a growing scale, I wouldn’t be lying.

My blisters have blisters.

My aches have aches.

I’ve got tan lines that will **never** go away.

_But this. This is how it goes._

_For three weeks._

_And as preseason ends it might be the end of this, of this unremitting Hellscape of exhaustion, but as the new freshman roll onto campus with their lives in tow with their luggage, I can’t help but realize, this is still only the beginning._

\-----------------------------------------------

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Tobin’s juggling a ball around in the hallway. I can tell. Can hear the way she’s popping the ball off the open-faced brick, the soles of her shoes, her knees. A rather brash bang would seem to suggest she just got the edge of my door frame. She’s not one for knocking, just chooses to allow her presence to be heard to signal her arrival. Right on cue, apparently, I’m opening the door as she passes it my way. This is, obviously, not her first time doing this, and I’m luckily well prepared to send it back.  

It’s been part of the routine. Not in an impatient way. Just in the way that Tobin normally functions. I can literally always tell it’s time by the sound on the other side of the door.

Today though, she’s staring at the ball with a sort of weird intensity, even for her, while she pops it up two, three, four more times before finally snagging it with her hands and looking around. And that should figure, I suppose. The hallways are practically swarmed with students, have been since early this morning. And if it weren’t Tobin, of all people, I’d wonder how she got through the hall without hitting someone, or knocking anyone’s belongings over.

For all I know, she did, took it as a pass, and just kept on moving.

“I wish I could say that I forgot move-in day for new frosh was today. But…”

She’s grinning like the cat that caught the canary. Obviously well in-tune to my mood.

“Yeah, yeah. Just because you don’t have a roommate this year and I have yet to meet mine does not in fact mean you should gloat about it.”

And I’m moving back into my room, absent for once of Lindsey and Sam who decided to actually spend some time up in their own spaces, cleaning up whatever mess they’ve made in the limited time they’ve spent there. Presumably preparing for, or already helping out, their new roommates as they struggle with their own belongings and the overpacked hallways.

I, instead, had been here. Trapped under two weeks worth of laundry, counting the speckles in the ceiling tiles while trying to get my body to cooperate. It’s not an excuse to say it’s just really expensive and I haven’t had time to snag quarters for the machines, right? Well…it’s not _just_ an excuse anyway. It’s a certainly a reality if nothing else. And I know that I should have spent some time getting a couple loads of laundry started, but I’ve been staring from the very spot I’d been in since we were released from afternoon conditioning and told we had the rest of the day to ourselves to finalize our class preparations for tomorrow.

At least, that had been where I’d stayed until it was time for regular “visiting hours.”

“I have so much to do and I literally have no idea where to even start. I think somewhere between burpees and sprints my brain shut down and I haven’t figured out how to turn it back on.”

Tobin just laughs and snags the seat at my desk.

“Could have been worse. Last year, Ashlyn said something dumb about keepers not needing to run like the rest of us, and we got extra work to do while she watched.”

And while that does actually sound pretty terrible, I’m more intrigued at the fact that Tobin has seemingly shown up alone today. Has shown up without Alex, who literally lives across the hall from her and is never out of sight. And who’s shown up without the freckled ball of sunshine.

“I don’t know if I could see that. I mean, we all complain pretty hard, but I’ve never heard her say anything.”

Tobin’s face drops like I’m not getting the point. Which, considering I’m thinking about other things right now is probably valid.

“Why do you think that is? I thought Ali was going to strangle her when we finally got done.”

Okay, yep. Way to go idiot. Accept defeat on that one.

“Oh that could not have been pretty.”

Tobin grins.

“It wasn’t. Which, was kind of awesome to see.”

And her grin is contagious. Not just in the way that it usually is, but especially because I can’t help but to visualize that scenario now.

I’d probably pay tickets to see it.

 “I bet.”  Which I actually would. I’d bet on Ali any day of the week for that. But the thought can no longer hold my attention as I listen to another student spill a stack of boxes outside of my door. Curiosity wins us all over eventually. “So, alone today?” And maybe that tone is a little too searching for plain curious, but Tobin doesn’t seem to catch it as she passes the ball back and forth between her hands.

“Alex is coming, she got a phone call on our way in. She said something about how terrible your building’s reception is, and how it was important, and said she’d be in in a minute.”

Despite the mock secretary tone of voice, I don’t miss the way she leaves that on a slight uptick. Like maybe she knows full well what I’m searching for after all.  Like maybe she knows there’s another presence whose absence I think is worth noting. Another person who I’m really asking about. Who hasn’t missed showing up at my door a single day for the past three weeks.

Right on cue Alex lets herself in through the still open door, shutting it securely behind her with an exasperated look. And Tobin seems to let any hint of further continuation fall.

“First, your building does have terrible reception, that’s not my fault. Second, my dearest roommate, Kelley, has called to say she’s sorry, but we’ll have to deal without her royal presence today.  She’s busy for the day and can’t be bothered to clear her schedule of the ‘likes of us peasants’, and extra work will just have to wait.”

And I’m jumping on the opportunity to latch onto her first point, to push away from the topic of my overeager thoughts, despite how entertained I am by the idea of Kelley calling Alex anything less than a princess.

“Guess it’s a good thing you don’t live here then, eh?”

Pushing hard to pin down thoughts of what Kelley’s so busy doing that she couldn’t just text me and let me know herself.

And Alex just responds with an eye roll, like this is all just old-rehashed conversation, which it is for the most part. Because either her mom or her dad or Servando always calls around this time, and we’re always basically gagging on it.

 “I could kill for wrap right now.” And just like that, Alex changes the subject to food. Her voice a rasp of longing and potential while she simultaneously and without warning crashes herself onto Tobin’s lap.

Tobin braces obnoxiously as she twists around, recoiling from the weight she wasn’t expecting. “Jesus Al!” Tobin’s overexaggerated screech sounds like she’s been given a minor heart attack. “When did you become such a Whale? I think you broke my femur!”

“Can we go to Black Bean? I’ve been wanting it since Monday.” Alex continues on, matter-of-fact like Tobin isn’t still squirming beneath her. “Please? Please, please please?”

Tobin pouts. “Alex, One. Monday was yesterday, it’s not like you’ve been living a deprived life. Two. There’s another perfectly good seat for you to go sit on right there. Three. Go get your own Black Bean. I’m busy.” Literal, lip out, exaggerated pouting. Which is exactly how I know that despite her protestations, she’s absolutely going to go with Alex to get a wrap. It’s just a matter of putting on an offended front first. “Sonny and I were attending to some very important business here before you decided to drop out of the sky on me.”

We weren’t really. Tobin and I both know that, but Alex doesn’t. To which she looks vaguely interested. Which to her credit is quite a bit more interested than I expected her to be when she’s hungry. Her stomach has a one track mind, quite a lot like mine.

She’s checks her watch.

“If we leave now, we can probably find parking as the lunch crowd leaves.”

Tobin sighs overdramatically. It’s all for effect and the look on Alex’s face right now, with the uptick in her eyebrow and the hidden lip quirk, says she knows it.

“Fiiine.” Tobin drags it out, but I’ve literally seen this scene play out in only slight variation before, so I know she’s more than a willing participant.

Alex looks smugly indulged.

“Alright Em. Chop Chop. You’re not getting anywhere near my car if you don’t change.”

And It takes an awkward second while she stares for it to sink in that I’ve just been included. That there was no question of what I’d be doing. Of whether or not I’d want to go. That, if we weren’t going to be training, I was still going to be with them. An expectation.

“Oh! Right, yeah...uh…I’ve got something here somewhere.”  I trip without much provocation over a couple of t-shirts on the ground and catch myself using my bed as a support before making it over to my dresser and rummaging around for something to wear.

They’re both shaking their heads at the display like this is nothing new, like this is all old hat to them.

On my part, though, the idea that this could be something they’re growing used to is a startling revelation I can’t help but to notice as I throw on a new set of clothes. A revelation that grows warm in my chest as I’m tossing my sweaty shirt onto the growing pile on the floor.

\---------------------------------------------------

 “Is it worth it? Is it really worth it? We get the afternoon off, and we gotta spend it reminded of the fact that classes start tomorrow.”

Tobin doesn’t sound particularly put-off. If I had to guess, she’s probably more annoyed that the green out in front of her dorm has been swarmed with incoming students since we finished conditioning this afternoon and she doesn’t really have the room to kick her ball around today.

“Of course it’s worth it you doof, we’re back down from three-a-days after this.” Alex is contentedly picking at the last vestiges of her meal. “I don’t know how much longer my knee was gonna hold up at the pace we’ve been going.”

She flicks a small piece of tortilla at Tobin who bats it away. Tobin flicking a piece of rice back at her, laughing hard and throwing her hands up, celebration style when Alex has to pick it out of her hair.

 “You’re being a great role model for the young one Tobin.” Alex arches an eyebrow as Tobin grins and shrugs her shoulders.  

“So, Anyways!” Tobin looks conspiratorially in my direction, “We’ve satisfied the beast.” To which Alex just rolls her eyes, before Tobin continues, laughing, “Back at campus, you said you had a ton to do, what’s on your list?” 

“Oh! Uh…let me think. I gotta print my schedule and my syllabuses for class. Syllabuses? Syllabi? My syllabi. Then get my books. Figure out where all of my classes are. Email my professors about the game schedule, that starts up next week right? I need to check that again…anyway, I need to let them know what days I’m going to be missing. Grab dinner with Sam and Lindsey. At least…I think so, I need to check about that with them about that again. And, I need to eventually meet my roommate and pray she doesn’t want to murder me for the wreck I’ve already left the room in. I should probably do a load or two of laundry to help with that and figure out what I’m wearing tomorrow. And somewhere in there I need to sleep.”

Tobin and Alex are both snickering by the time I’m done, but it’s Alex who responds.

“Alright. We’ll go to the Library, get your stuff printed, and get those emails sent that you should have done days ago. Then we’ll ransack your piggybank for your last two cents to buy the overpriced books you SHOULD have looked for weeks ago online when you could have found them a hell of a lot cheaper. I have no idea how you went all summer not knowing who your roommate is and figuring out who was going to buy what, but she’s definitely going to murder you, no question about that.”

I’m arching an eyebrow, which is the best I can settle for in the moment, taking all of that in.

“She was obviously just as lax about it as I was! And really, it’s just clothes. Nothing I can’t easily solve by doing some laundry.”

Tobin just chuckles as she pushes a couple of pieces of rice around with her fingertip, chiming in with a short, “Not enough prayers in the world, kid.” Before Alex nods in overenthusiastic agreement and decides to continue.

“So, Tobin and I will just have to make sure to collect what’s left of you and deliver it to Coach. We’ll make sure you get a nice funeral though, so it’s all good. Also, yes, double check with Sam and Lindsey, because you’re cancelling your plans and spending time with your favorite seniors instead.”

There’s a sharp clench and release in my stomach that is exactly the right kind of knot untying itself. The kind that says ‘You’re in. I don’t know how you did this, but you’re in.’ And then I can’t help but to take a second to poke at Alex.

“Presumptuous much?”

Alex just shrugs her shoulders as though the answer is obvious and she can’t be bothered to argue the point.

“You’ll accept it sooner or later Sonnett.”

And she’s not wrong. But I am hesitant to say as such when there’s a missing piece of their trio who I’ve been itching to ask about but haven’t.

“You’ll have more than enough time to spend with them. Besides, tomorrow is syllabus day in class, which is a total blow off, and Coach is going to cancel morning workouts tomorrow, I talked to her earlier. Something about a time conflict with the Football team for the facilities. She just hasn’t said anything because she loves having us living in fear.”

Her casual tone is nearly comical when, in my head, I’m attaching it to a hypothetical situation where Coach overhears her. It’s a priceless visual really.

“Mmm” And I’m overexaggerating my thinking face, realizing, only a moment too late that I’m already taking notes out of Tobin’s playbook, because it’s only a moment later that I’m acquiescing. “Well, when you put it that way…”

And Alex’s smug grin against Tobin’s laugh is enough to make me realize it doesn’t matter.

“Poor girl doesn’t know what she’s getting herself into.” Tobin’s comment is laced with just a little something extra that I can’t understand.

“Oh shut it Tobin.” And Alex’s comment is answering back with exactly the same undertone.

And I know there’s something they’re not saying to me right now. Something written between the lines. They’re having a conversation I have no idea how to follow and I don’t really care because I can’t escape the warmth in my chest over this.

The way it doesn’t matter because more than anything else I’ve somehow become a part of this without ever having to ask.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, by the way. Between working 40+ hours a week, and studying to try and get into grad school, and actually re-writing this three times, it's been busy!  
> No music to disclose this week, although I spent a lot of time this past week listening to Oh Wonder. So give that a listen.


	5. Set on Fire

Tobin and Alex joked when they brought me into their circle. They heckled each other, they tossed food like children who shouldn’t be left unsupervised. But they did exactly what they said they would.

In short order we left Black Bean, Alex driving back towards campus. Wasting no time to get my schedule and syllabi printed for classes, using what I’d been told are seriously precious “print credits” while Tobin entertained herself, kicking a ball around in between the stacks of books. Meanwhile, Alex helped to write out the e-mails for each of my professors. By which I mean, she wrote them while I kicked the ball around with Tobin; she took care to forewarn my professors which dates of class we’d be missing _and_ asking if I could make up the work I’d miss for full credit by finishing it early. Because apparently brown-nosing is an actual legitimate, effective, tried, and proven strategy.

And who am I to protest on that front.

I’ve already proven by this point that I’ll take what help I can get.

Help that only continued as they took the time to show me where each of my classes would be. Which of the buildings would finally stop just being empty, gaping, staring windows, and which would soon become overly familiar. Laid out the insider tips of what were sure to the quickest ways to get to each class including, but not limited to, a fairly sketchy alleyway that Tobin emphatically swore by to help me get to my Oceanography lab that was all the way across campus from my English class. As well as warning me to never take the elevator in the science center. The thing was supposedly haunted and got stuck with students inside of it regularly.

When we finished there and headed back towards Wick Hall and my impending doom, they helped to lighten the mood, joking, in no uncertain terms, about which method my new roommate was going to murder me with for the condition I’d left our room in. Tobin thought it’d be quick. Alex hoped it’d be a more elongated process. Neither of which was entirely reassuring, but my roommate, to their, and my, absolute disbelief when we finally walked through the door said she didn’t even care about how messy I’d left everything. She’d just laughed and shrugged her shoulders. She said it felt more lived in than she’d expected it too. That it reminded her of her brother in a way, which was actually somewhat comforting.  Instead of becoming my killer, Law and Order style, she just introduced herself as an art student, asked about how soccer preseason had been, and opened up another box to put her things away. I, on the other hand, guiltily gathered up my enormous mountain of laundry, apologized awkwardly, and made a promise I know I couldn’t keep about trying be more vigilant in the future.

Alex, when she finally swung herself down from my bed where she’d been ignoring us while texting at a frantic pace, helped to smuggle over two bags full of said laundry into their Hall where upperclassmen got access to free machines (Read: Score!).

But see, I know that’s not all that interesting. It’s downright mundane. It’s what comes after that, that seems unreal.

When time had slipped away with the now setting sun that I realized what I was truly in for.

Tobin grabbed her ball, her favorite thing, tucked it under one arm, and led us across campus, alternating between quiet conversation and dodging the occasional stray student.

It was well after 11, the whole of campus was quieting down after what had been a prolonged move-in day. The entire entirety of our world, settling in; taking one last breath before the start of something big. 

Before life pressed play and continued on.

Which leads us to the here and now.

And it occurs to me, far too slowly, as Tobin tosses her ball over the fence and starts climbing after it, that of course she’d bring us to the field. Of course this is where she’d want to spend her last moments of the summer, only all too happy to have us along.  

But it isn’t what’s easily accepted here that matters. It isn’t what I should have predicted.

Instead, it’s the sudden sly look on Tobin and Alex’s faces, dimly lit from a nearby lamp post. From the other side of the fence just seconds before I’m about to launch myself up and over. Something passing over their faces too quickly for me to register that anything is amiss.

It’s the hands coming up to cover my eyes from behind.  To cover me with such a thick layer of surprise. It’s the soft but familiar voice whispering “Guess who?” into my ear while my stomach is literally plummeting through the floor.

It’s the way I can’t stop myself, twisting and turning, arm striking out defensively to shove my would-be attacker away. Yelping, not entirely unlike the shrill shriek of a terrified puppy.

It’s the way she’s giggling as she stumbles back. As she takes in my initial state of shock, with my hand grabbing hard at my chest trying to manually stop the heart attack I’m having.

And she can barely contain herself, body vibrating with humor.

 “Oh man, your face right now.”

And I’m still trying to catch my breath. Adrenaline pumping hard through my blood stream as I’m practically gasping out a ragged, “Jesus Christ. Not Funny.” (Even though maybe it is, just a little bit. At least from her point of view.)

And I can feel how hot my face is.  Can imagine just how red my cheeks must be. Uncontrolled as the blood pounding from my heart rises, body being pushed hastily into fight or flight response.

Vaguely, I can hear Tobin and Alex slapping hands behind me, snickering, muttering a victorious, “Got her.”

And I have a vague thought of Alex texting, wondering now if this was an elaborate plan.

But I’m throwing the thoughts away before they really have the chance to settle in. More focused on the figure before me instead. 

She has her freckled face hidden, doubled over as she laughs, hands on her knees. I can hear the devilish grin she must be wearing as she unapologetically announces, “Sorry, Sonnett. It’s just…that was too good of an opportunity to pass up.”

“Kelley O’Hara.” And I’m taking a step forward before my brain even realizes what I plan on doing. “There’s absolutely no way I’m letting you get away with that.”

Because my body, still coursing with hormones, chooses _fight._

And she, with a lightning quick reaction, seems to pivot, choosing _flee_ as she realizes I’m charging towards her. Calling backwards, voice half a laugh, “You’ll have to catch me first!”

And I promise you, she’s as fast as she looks.

But I’ve never backed down from a challenge.

\-----------------------------------------

It takes every ounce of energy I can muster, legs pumping hard, when I find myself launching forward. That I finally catch her. Send us both into a sprawl with a backdrop of Tobin and Alex, whooping hard at the chase. We’re just two bodies now, lying in a tangle on the ground.

And there’s a moment, looking down at her from where I’ve ended up, that carries a certain weight. That has me forgetting why I’ve even taken the opportunity to tackle her. That has me worried that maybe I’ve even accidently injured her.

But she’s just staring up with amused eyes, as surprised as I’ve ever seen her.

And then she’s laughing. 

We’re both laughing.

Recovering as we struggle to try and shove air deep down inside our lungs

My jump scare only vaguely relevant anymore. Tobin and Alex, who no doubt observed the scene with great amusement are clapping and wolf whistling back behind the fence.

And it takes a moment to collect ourselves before I can start to disentangle our arms and legs, crawling off of her to lay myself out on the ground. Takes another moment still before Kelley starts propping herself up on her elbows from her position on her back so she can look more readily at me.  

“Nice catch Hot Wheels. Good to know exactly who to call when I need someone chased down.” And she’s got a smile practically dangling off her lips now as she says it. While she jokes so easily despite us still behind a crumpled heap on the ground. And it honestly makes me wonder if Kelley has even been trying throughout conditioning sessions.  

The ease with which she’s already seemingly recovered is so suddenly suspicious.

Because in full contrast, I’m a starfish, laid out and useless, still just trying to catch my breath. “Well if someone didn’t run so fast.” And it’s a massive effort just to squeeze the simple sentence out in between gasps of air, but I’m smiling back. Maybe, maybe just a little proud of myself because yeah, I did in fact just lay myself out and tackle the fittest person we’ve got on our team.

And she just laughs, hard and belly deep while she moves to stand up.

“Well you did catch me you know, so you’re obviously pretty fast yourself.”

And I can’t figure out why her tone is taking a softer turn around such a simple compliment, but now I’ve got to actively push down the feeling it’s causing in my chest.  Am questioning why it’s so difficult to do so as she takes the time to dust herself off. To check herself for any damage I might have caused, before she’s looking up abruptly.

Away from herself. Away from me.

To where I seem to have momentarily forgotten that Tobin and Alex have been observing and are waiting for us.

She’s calling out with a quick wave, “Go get the lights Tobs! We’ll be there in just a second!” ushering them on.

And I can see, even from my position on the ground that Tobin nods easily. That she’s moving with relaxed strides away from the fence and inside the stadium.

What’s slightly confusing, what makes a lot less sense, is the way Alex seems reluctant at first to leave. Casting what, even from here, looks like a questioning eye back towards the two of us. Only budging when Tobin calls for her to follow along.

A questioning eye I can’t even begin to comprehend because I can’t see anything out of the ordinary here besides the impulses squashed deep inside my sternum.

But soon enough, we’re alone and I don’t need to think about that anymore. And then Kelley’s looking back down at me, a soft expression on her face that I haven’t seen before as she extends a hand to help me up.

“I’m sorry,” she says simply. And I can’t properly convey to you the way those words suddenly hold something bigger than they should. The way they’re paired with a Kelley who actually looks somewhat guilty. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

_Actual Remorse._

It’s deafening to realize that’s what I’m hearing. Out of snarky, sarcastic Kelley who’s done nothing but mercilessly tease the others every day that I’ve known her yet. Who I’ve never heard apologize for anything.

“It’s fine, really.” And maybe I’m shaking her off. Maybe I’m letting it go easy. Because, yeah, that was a _shit_ thing of her to do. Yeah she had me believing for just the slightest moment I was about to be ax-murdered. But there’s just this air. This heaviness that’s filtering in as Kelley’s eyes seem to refuse to leave mine. And I can’t help but try to do something to alleviate it.

It’s startling, the weight the moment suddenly seems to carry.

Then just as quickly she nods, satisfied that I’ve apparently let her off the hook.

Moving on as quickly and as simply as Kelley does.

“So…” and she’s chewing at her lip again. Not unlike the first time we were here at this field, when Allie had run off and left us to our own devices. And I’m realizing now, like then, it seems the shift is brought on by a sudden state of aloneness. “You ready for the Season? Our first game is coming up.”

And I wish that I could tell you I’m nodding instantaneously. That I’m expressing my fierce desire to tackle the season head on. That I’m confident that I know the direction our team and my contribution to it will be taking.

But I’m not.

Instead, I’m picking at the seam in my shorts. Hesitating. Looking away from her searching eyes for just a moment while I try to collect my thoughts. While I mull over my feelings.

Settling for an image that can maybe explain better than my attempt to materialize words.

“Do you know that feeling when you’re on a rollercoaster and you’re locked in, being cranked one car length at a time up the first big climb? Where every second you’re stuck there, trapped in your seat, your anxiety grows because you know that any second now, you’re all going to reach the top? That you’re going to get that one perfect moment to look out at what’s coming before you end up taking the plunge down to the bottom.”

She nods sympathetically, affirmatively. Like this is an analogy that she totally understands. That she’s lived this.

“Well, that’s the way that I thought that I’d feel.”

And I can see the crease forming in her forehead between her eyes, a physical representation of her confusion, her curiosity, as I’m veering away from my initial path. But she stays silent. Even while I’m paused, gathering words.

“It’s not like that this time, I guess. I mean…it’s the same principle. But this time I feel a little blind. Like, I know everyone else is right there with me, but I don’t know how to look out to see what’s coming. I don’t know what it looks like.” She’s nodding, ever so slightly, just enough to encourage me to carry on and finish what I have to say. “I don’t know what the season looks like from this position. I don’t want to be the reason we fly off the rails.”

And I’m releasing a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

A buried fear I didn’t know I owned.

But she doesn’t laugh, and she doesn’t pry deeper. She just sighs, softly, like I’m not supposed to hear it, before she smiles.

“You’re not going to throw us off the rails. You work harder than anyone else here.”

And I’m quirking an eyebrow because there’s no way that can be true. Not with the teammates that we’ve got. Not with their phenomenal amount of talent.

“Don’t make that face Sonnett. You’re the only one that’s been out there with me every single day. Busting their ass when they don’t have to. Putting in the work when you could be doing literally anything else.”

And here’s the thing, I want to stop her, to tell her she was obviously right there too. Putting in that work. That Tobin and Alex were there _almost_ every single other day as well. That there was a whole slew of people that volunteered themselves at some time or another.

But I don’t stop her for that. I don’t interrupt. Because, yeah, yeah maybe I was there. But there’s more than one reason for that. A reason I obviously can’t admit about how I had more than one motive to be there. That my attention wasn’t always focused singularly on the beautiful game. Can’t admit that maybe I’ve got a tiny seed of something growing in my chest that has Kelley’s name on it that I can’t seem to choke out. 

And when I don’t stop her, I should know that I don’t need to worry if she’ll continue on. That I don’t need to worry about opening my mouth to refute her statement, to say something, _anything._ Because she’s suddenly punching me in the gut with one last sentence.

“You have no idea how good you’re getting.”

And I don’t have a good response to that.

Don’t have a response that justifies speaking and ruining this warmth in my stomach with my awkward fumbling words.

So instead we wait in the silence. Wait while Kelley seems to just patiently let the moment pass. Before she drops her eyes with one last hesitant flicker that I don’t know how to read. Before she starts moving forward, towards the fence that separates us from the field. Reminding me that Tobin and Alex are still waiting for us.

And I know that I do need to say something now. That even if they’re miss-timed and a little out of place she should get something back from that.

So I’m mumbling out a slightly embarrassed “Thank you. I’m glad you’re on the ride with me.”

She just looks over and smiles. Like she knows how important that is. What those words are trying to convey.

And we’re both walking towards the fence now, the somber air dissipating.

“Well, I couldn’t leave you behind. You’re too much fun.”

And there’s the teasing in her tone that I don’t need to struggle to identify.  That encourages me to settle in for a back and forth.

“You know I’m not entirely letting you get away with scaring me, right? That I’m going to get you back for that? That I’m going to get even.”

And she just laughs, quirks an eyebrow. Cooley implying an, _Oh yeah? You think you can? What are you going to do about it?_ as she climbs the fence with a practiced ease, dropping down on the other side and turning to look back at me through the chain link.

Suddenly, I don’t have a single good response, even though I know I had one resting on the tip of my tongue, because there’s something about the look on her face that me unexpectedly has gulping hard. That has me struggling to snuff out the thing that’s igniting inside of my chest. That has me wanting to take a drastic nose-dive right where I’m standing. 

Something about the smug way she opens her mouth, practically whispering, “Well as long as that means that I’ll get the chance to be chasing you, I guess that I can handle that.”

And I’ve got absolutely no way of answering that.

No way of identifying if she’s saying the things that I think that she’s saying.

And if she didn’t pull an about-face, slinking away with an undeniable pep to her step, I think she would have seen the way my jaw ended up on the floor.

I’m thankful that she’s far enough ahead when I finally gather myself together to climb the fence after her. That there’s no way she sees the way I clamber up and over the top, falling in an ungraceful heap in the way that feels so typical by now.

But her voice is unmistakable on the breeze when she calls back.

“Well come on then Wheels. Hurry up! This queen has arrived and I’ve got an afternoon of training with the peasants to make up for.”

And I’ve never found my footing quite so quickly as I do to catch up with her.

\--------------------------------------------------

Have you ever woken up wondering if the memories swimming around in your head are even real. Whether somehow it’ll turn out that they’re just some incredibly vivid dream?

It’s the way that the conscious and the subconscious get those few moments right upon waking where the utterly fantastic and the real mingle together in a way that makes it difficult to extricate one from the other.

Like an eclipse.

One world rolling over the other, just briefly.

Where we mix dreams and reality.

Because it’s that distinct feeling that’s pulling at my brain when my alarm goes off at 8:30. Where Carrie is singing away in my ear but my brain is still fuzzy. And I’ve got wicked night dream whispers rolling through my head before I’m slapping my phone to shut off my alarm as my body furrows in on itself under the warm covers. Protesting with an audible grunt before I’m stretching out again. A warm feeling rolling around in my stomach as my body lets out another low growling groan as each vertebra snaps into proper positioning. Racked with a heavy yawn as my body fights the need to wake. 

Unbelievably though, I’m sliding out of bed before my second alarm can go off, feet coming to rest against the cool linoleum before grabbing a towel and barging rather unceremoniously into the bathroom, throwing on the water while I’m throwing off my clothes. Stepping under the hot spray before I even realize through my still muddled brain that I should have knocked on the door.

Remembering, as the water cascades in hot sheets that I’m not the only one living in this suite anymore.

And it isn’t until I’ve been standing under the spray for another forty-five seconds or so that my brain finally begins to come alive. That the synapses finally start firing on all cylinders. Finally start the arduous progression of processing information in a way that makes sense.

That somewhere in between shampooing and conditioning my hair the warm feeling begins to become something like curious wonderment, like nervous anticipation.

It’s finally the first day of class.

Finally begins to remember exactly why I’m still so tired. Starts sorting out that what I remember wasn’t a dream. That what I think happened before I went to sleep wasn’t just a figment of my imagination. That it wasn’t just a dream.

That the four of us spent hours in the stadium, kicking the ball around before we ended up turning the lights back off. Before we spent time just lying on our backs, staring up at the night sky, talking about everything. About nothing.

Slinking back to our beds after 1 with the promise to grab lunch together after class tomorrow.

The dorm desk assistant sitting watch over the front door casting a curious eye but saying nothing as I ambled past, still flush with the excitement of the night.

Creeping into bed, careful not to wake the new body on the other side of my room.

Reluctant to sleep even as I tuned in to her soft, even, rhythmic breathing cast over the otherwise silence of the room.

Falling asleep to constellations that have no place in the sky.

Unable to stop thinking of the tongue-in-cheek remarks and the growing seed in my chest.

Thoughts that I once again have to shove back down as I turn the water off, stepping out, wrapping myself inside the haven of my towel. 

Knowing full well that this is an issue that could easily get out of hand.

Purposefully switching gears entirely to think about my game plan for the day. Distracting myself with remembering exactly which classes I have. About what books I’m going to need.  

Remembering, with an abrupt veracity that only feels real when you know you’ve inadvertently screwed up.

“Shit.”

I forgot to grab my laundry from the other dorm. I’ve got nothing decent, nothing that would peg me as your regular, average, student to wear.

Which would figure because it’s just another day one all over again. _And something just had to go wrong, right?_

\-------------------------------------------------------

Here’s the part where I hope you know me enough by now to predict how I decided to handle this situation. Because I could have texted one of the three in that building.

My fingertips hovered over each of their contacts in turn.

But that’d be something like defeat, right? Not that this is really any kind of game.

But option one was a terrible decision. I just know that Alex would never have let me live it down if I had woken her up from her cherished sleeping time.

Option two would have been harmless by comparison, but Tobin, as tempting as that was, was already sitting in a class. She’d spent twenty minutes as we kicked the ball around last night complaining about having an 8am lab on Wednesdays. That it should be illegal to have to wake up that early if it wasn’t for soccer.  

And Kelley? Well, let’s just say it was too early to deal with that particular issue yet.

So, instead I’d made an executive decision that really truly speaks volumes about my sense of character.

I decided to throw first impressions out the window.

I sat down in the front row of my first class, tucked way too comfortably in training gear. Hair thrown in a messy bun. The sore thumb in a room full of freshman, dressed to the nines, eager to seem like the adults we all seem to magically think we are now.

When Sam walked in, plopping herself down in the desk next to mine with a wave and piqued eyebrow, equally as dressed up as the rest of them, I was surprised to find I didn’t feel left out. That I didn’t feel as though I’d really missed the boat on anything.

Instead I was just happy to be comfortable, to be relaxed. And the fact is, if I can delay that adult thing, I’m going to do that.

And it turns out that I wasn’t really missing anything. That college, with all its mystery and bravado, is nothing worth getting dressed up for.

That only the unknowing freshman had even made the real effort to do so.

But you see, that’s not what’s important. I’m sure you also know by now, that I don’t like to waste time with the mundane.

What’s important, is what happens after class. (Alex was right, Syllabus day really is a waste. I spent more time looking at the backs of my eyelids just trying to stay awake.)

What’s important is the view that’s greeting me as I’m walking into the Student Union for lunch. What’s important is the confusing second I see my shirt across the room. My shirt on someone who most definitely isn’t me. The bold letters of my name “SONNETT” striking and unmistakable. And for one second I’m tempted to charge up, to deal with what’s the most ridiculously obvious first laundry theft of my collegiate life.

But then I realize who’s wearing it.

I realize who it is as her friends, familiar faces, point me out across the room. As she turns around in the chair she’s currently occupying.

Smirking. Observing me. Face full of daring and absolute _up to no good_ glee.

And as I make my way over, dodging groups of other students who are trying to find places to sit, she does absolutely nothing but look more challengingly at me. Never breaking eye contact.

And those familiar faces are watching too. She’s sitting with Allie and Tobin and Alex. They’re all a little smug, looking self-satisfied at being in on the joke, gauging my reaction.

And it’s somewhat unsettling, the way I’m not sure I have any idea what to say while all their eyes are resting on me. The way my brain keeps coming up empty on how precisely I want to play this.

But I don’t back down from challenges. And if her facial expression means anything, this definitely is one.

And she’s the first to speak, dripping sickly sweet tones off her lips, “Well good afternoon Sonnett. Can I help you with something?”  And she’s leaning backward in her chair now, resting comfortably with her hands held up, interlocked behind her head. Just waiting for what my response might be.

And I’m not sure how I end up deciding to play along with the game. How the words start to spill out of my mouth before I realize they’re mine. Before I realize I even have words to spill in this situation. That I’m not mute and meek and unable to function.

“Help me? Oh no…I’m good.” And I’m slipping my bag from my shoulders, letting it fall into the empty seat next to Alex. Like I’m not bothered in this situation at all. “I like your shirt though.”

And she laughs, looks down at it, pulls the fabric from her chest with both hands, looks back up at me. “Oh this? Well, someone just happened to leave it lying around. Found it when I went to finish some laundry this morning. Looks pretty good on me though, right?”

And there are words that threaten to fill my mouth without my permission. Words I’m forced to choke back, barring them behind my teeth before they try to spill messily out. Gut instinct reaction.

The growing something in my chest wanting to tell her _You’d look a lot better out of it._

Words I can’t imagine myself ever being nearly so bold as to actually say.

Not when the eyes of the group are watching, filled with humor and anticipation.

And I wonder if she can see the hesitation. See the way I’m forcing myself to expel one set of words in exchange for another, because her head is starting to turn just a bit, cocking itself into an angle.

And I wish the thoughts I can’t seem to settle would stop whispering nonsense in my ear. Because it’s telling me those eyebrows are raising to read something like a dare.

A dare there’s no chance I’d find myself taking.

So instead I roll my eyes at her, tell the voice in my head it needs to stop inventing something out of nothing. Settling for a lame, “Kel, you only have to ask if you want if you really want my name on your back. Marriage is still legal in all 50 states you know.”

And the change in her face is evident. The way it seems to fall. To deflate.

The way I’ve seemingly refused to rise to an occasion that she never announced.

Though no one else seems to notice as they turn themselves away laughing, satisfied with how things have ended up. Returning to conversations that were happening before.

And yet, for a reason I can’t explain, as I’m pivoting to walk away, to go grab a lunch I’ve been starving for, to escape this situation and return to the normality I’m craving, I can still feel her eyes. That she hasn’t returned to anything except maybe what she started last night.

And with no one else watching, with not a single ounce of attention left on us as Allie starts onto a story about she’s already failed a pop quiz on the first day because what professor assigns reading before the very first class, I can’t seem to stop myself as I’m walking away.

Can’t seem to stop the way the voices in the room drop away, an octave and volume too low to be heard over the blood rushing through my ears.

Can’t seem to stop myself from wondering what it may mean.

The way I can still feel her eyes burning a hole in my back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in time for the weekend! As always, I wanna hear what you think.
> 
> Disclosure: This week's selection was from Set on Fire by MAGIC GIANT.


	6. Getting Even

_Chapter Six: Getting Even_

I expect for it to feel awkward as I make my way back to the table. Expect, with my head still swimming in an undercurrent of possibilities, that I will inevitably feel the weight of Kelley’s eyes and whatever it is that they are saying when I make my way back to the table. Back into her view.

It doesn’t though.

Instead, I’m filled with an immediate sense of confusion. An abrupt change in gears.

Because where I’d felt the heat of her stare before, there’s nothing but an empty chair now. Nothing but an empty space where she’d been. And it only takes a cursory glance around to realize she isn’t just momentarily wandering somewhere. She isn’t hiding anywhere just out of sight. Her plates on the tabletop have been cleared. Her bag is missing.

Not a single trace of her presence left to indicate that she’d even been there at all if I hadn’t just seen her moments ago.

And her impromptu disappearance is enough of a surprise to make me look to Alex or Tobin. To ask an unspoken question and expect an answer. To silently interrupt an otherwise important conversation about the upcoming game to ask the other two legs of their friendship triad where Kelley’s gone off to without a word or a wave goodbye when we were all supposed to be eating lunch together.

Unsurprisingly, it’s Tobin, mouth full, who tries to answer first. Who tries and fails spectacularly to get words out from around the massive bite she’s just taken. Who finally gives up and just shrugs, holding up a finger to signal she needs a second as she chews, swallowing thickly with a cough.

To which it would obviously be Alex who flares her nostrils at the display.

“Gross Tobin. Chew. Swallow. Then talk. You’re literally going to choke one day and I can’t always guarantee that I’ll be here to save you.”

She scowls long enough in actual direction to see Tobin sheepishly shrug her shoulders once again in a kind of conciliatory response. Not that’s it’s serious. Not much seems to be. And I expect that this has happened multiple times before with the way Tobin just lets it slide as though Alex hasn’t even said it. As she takes Alex’s interruption as a sign that her input is no longer needed, shoveling in another bite happily.

Alex turns back towards me, highlighting the fact that she’s refusing to watch the imminent food conquest. “What dear Tobin here was trying to say around her _mouthful of food_ was that Kel got a phone call she just _had_ to take, lord save us, so she left to get some privacy. Which I suppose that she’d expect me to be thankful for.” She rolls her eyes for effect, but it’s hard to pay attention to. Hard to be convinced that she’s simply telling another story with her usual casual indifference to minor happenings when her voice has such a hard edge to it.

“Fortunately, though, you still get our lovely company, untarnished by the presence of a rogue clothing thief.” And then she’s brightening again. Brightening as though she’d never had any venom to her speech at all. “And, in my opinion, we’re far better company besides. In any case, move your stuff Em. Don’t be the one that has us sitting weird. Fill the space. Join the conversation. We’re just talking about the home opener next week.”

And it takes a second to comply. To get my arms and my legs to function like a normal human being when I’ve got my full brain power focused on wondering what put the edge on Alex’s tone. Why she sounded like she’d tasted something hostile and unwanted with little to no warning. Has me wondering even though I know that I shouldn’t. Even though I know that it’s none of my business. That it’s not my place to pry and ask what dampened Alex’s mood. To ask who would call Kelley when most of the people she spends any significant amount of time with are already sitting right here. To ask who on the end of the line could cause such a sudden disappearance when I’ve heard her talk to family without the need for a swift retreat; without the need for any such privacy.

It only takes a second though. One second before Allie battery jumps me back into human action. As she abandons talk about the game and steers the group down a different path; as she starts taking bets on how likely it is that I’ll gain the _dreaded_ Freshman 15. To which I have no choice but to defend myself, to roll my eyes and offer up the most obvious and easily accepted answer; _it’s obviously not a big deal, we’ll just run it off later._ Only takes a second before I set to work puzzling out how to set down the abundance of kitchenware I’ve been balancing; two plates on one arm; a bowl I’ve been holding in one hand; a cup in the other with a tiny plate resting on top.

And magically, I find that it doesn’t take any effort to forget the reason I’d felt any anxiety (the whole reason I end up with an overabundance of food) to return to this table at all. That it’s easier than I would have anticipated to find myself setting down my urge to ask any other questions on the matter.

That it’s easier than I would have thought to start swallowing my curiosity along with way too food.

Because if teammates are good for anything, it’s pulling you out from the spiral of your own head.

\--------------------------------------

Kelley leaves the bags of laundry in my room. I don’t know how she gets in my building (it’s ID access only), past the front desk (there’s a full-time assistant who sits there as a monitor), or up each flight of stairs carrying the overstuffed sacks while remaining unseen, but she does. They’re in my room waiting for me when I get back from my final class of the day. My roommate said she had knocked politely (which is out of character for her. which meant she wasn’t actually looking for me), thanked her for opening the door, and dropped each bag off with an overenthusiastic toss to the floor.

She also didn’t stay. Didn’t text me about their return either. And I’m halfway to firing off a Snapchat to both Tobin and Alex about how the _Queen_ must have been so out of sorts after having lowered herself to delivering the _peasant’s_ washing that she she’s been struck speechless, before I notice that there’s a note sticking out from between a rumpled pair of sweatpants and an old shirt I’d gotten from winning State two years ago.

A note in handwriting that’s unmistakably hers.

A note which suddenly has me regretting everything I ate for lunch, even if it was well over an hour and a half ago. Has me regretting the way I thought that I’d only have to worry about team practice. Has me regretting things I didn’t know I’d need to because it’s a warning. A warning that I’ve received a little late about still heading out to practice early. About still working for every last gain possible. Sticking to our pre-practice routine.

A note which barely precedes the thumping coming down the hall. An overly familiar sound. Growing louder until it’s pounding just outside my door. Accompanied by a pair of mumbling of voices I can’t quite make out. Heralds the pummeling knock that follows.

A knock which I can’t help but to throw my door open for. A little overeager for the visitors I wasn’t prepared for.

And there she is again in all her glory. Leaning in on the door frame with her elbow held above her head. Like she thinks she’s some kind of off-shoot James Dean. Initially silent but expectant, giving the smallest nod in greeting. And I’m reluctant to admit that maybe I am put a little off-balance by it.

But she’s followed closely by Tobin who waves quickly, who breaks any kind of tension before I can start to imagine its there. Who serves to warmly say hello before she goes back to juggling, moving back off down the hall like our conversation is now irrelevant and she knows it’s only a matter of time before Kelley and I end up following.

She’s out of ear-shot before Kelley finally goes and speaks.

“You didn’t think I was letting you get away that easy did ya? Classes are no excuse for slacking.”

And suddenly I forget why I was regretting anything at all.

Not when she’s ready to fall back into routine. Not when she’s showing up at my door, still wearing that damn shirt that’s been the cause of a mental circus performance.

“Wouldn’t dream of it Kel. You’re the Disappearing Wonder, not me.”

 And there’s a slight moment of hesitancy that shows in her face before she ends up laughing. A millisecond where I can tell she’s gauging just how serious my comment is. Can tell it’s a judgment made at hyper speed while she thinks about how she’s gone missing with little explanation two afternoons in a row now. (Can tell because I’ve thought about it too. That I’ve noticed but it’s not my business to bring up.) Can tell she knows I’m not being serious when her eyes settle on the upturned corners of my mouth rather than on anything we may or may not not be speaking. 

Because here I am, instead of anything else, grinning with the improbability that she’s been wearing my name around campus like it’s no big deal. (It isn’t and I wish I could get that nagging thought to shut up.)

“Grab your stuff then. You know Tobin. She’s probably already out the door waiting for us.”

And I do know. That for as relaxed as Tobn is, she’s always happier outside. Takes every advantage to give herself as much open space as possible. So it doesn’t even take a second to grab my gear that’s been stashed beside the door. To give her a _well come on then_ shove, ready to follow.

To which, it seems pertinent to note, we do find her alone out in front of the building. Alex apparently got dragged into a meeting for some organization or another. Something which was apparently too dull to hold Tobin’s interest enough to properly describe and Kelley says she doesn’t know. That she’s her roommate, not her keeper.

It’s almost a little funny. The way we settle in together. Passing the ball back and forth as we dribble our way across campus to the field. The way we don’t talk about what happened in the Student Union. Don’t mention it even though the voice in my head starts telling me I’m practically walking side by side with trouble itself.  Don’t talk about it even though she’s still wearing the shirt.

That she keeps wearing it all the way up until it’s time for actual practice. When she finally pulls out our official training gear like it’s a chore. Like she thinks it’s a pain to have to change at all.

It’s an elephant in the room that no one will talk about.

Except that it isn’t awkward.

That it doesn’t seem to matter anymore.

That neither Tobin or Kelley bring it back up so I decide to ignore it altogether too. Finally realize in a spurt of rational thought that racks through my brain whip-quick, that maybe I’m the only one still incredulously thinking it might mean anything.

Which is, primarily the reason it doesn’t dawn on me right away. The reason why it isn’t until hours later that I realize that she’s kept the shirt. Hours after Sam, Lindsey, and myself pack ourselves into a small study room in the library, wrapped obnoxiously in bags of ice after a particularly rough day to start logging our mandatory Freshman Study Hall hours (We don’t have homework yet. We leach the WiFi and watch Netflix instead). Hours later when I’ve taken the time to finally get all of my laundry put back away into its rightful place.

That the particular shirt she’d been wearing never made the journey back into my possession.

That one of my favorite shirts has unexpectedly become a victim. A veritable prisoner of war in this game that’s started between us. And something about the way this has all played out makes the decision to respond easy.

Because it’s never been a better time for retaliation.

For making good on my promises to get even.

I’m calling Alex before I even give it a second thought. Flying into action before I can second guess myself.

One ring, two rings.

It bodes well that she picks up with an interested tone.

“Well hello there. Did you miss me so much? What can I do for you?”

I’m already flying around the room, rifling through drawers, searching for a thick roll of duct tape I’m sure that I have somewhere. I’ve got my phone sitting out on speaker. Instantaneously thankful my roommate is absent for the moment.

“Don’t put me on speaker. Don’t mention my name. Answer yes or no. Are you alone or is Kelley in the room with you.”

There’s a distinct pause. A swallowing of her own breath while I can practically hear Alex’s eyebrows knitting together, the gears grinding in her head, wondering what this is all about.

“…Yeah, that’s right.”

In the background I can hear her now. A distant shuffling of papers and a couple of loud footsteps. I’ve never been more thankful for Alex’s winning attitude in moments like these.

“Great! I mean…not great…” I’m trying to think quickly about how to solve this problem. “Would you, uh, would you be open to the possibility of keeping Kelley entertained for a bit. Maybe outside of your room?”

I’ve found the tape! It had hidden itself down in the bottom of plastic storage container. I’m throwing it into a drawstring bag without waiting to hear if Alex even responds positively.

“I was actually just telling Kel I wanted to try that new Froyo place downtown that we talked about earlier.”

We didn’t talk about that. But the tone of her voice, the cadence and the way she says it tells me she’s following along. I’m trying to think of how precisely to answer when I hear Kelley asking Alex who she’s talking to. Finally interested at the sound of her own name.

_“It’s Allie. You wanna go with us? First time’s on me?”_

And I’m thankful Alex’s brain springs into action far before mine can. Appreciative that she’s far more capable than I am at getting Kelley to bend to her will.

_“You had me at free, Al. Lead the way.”_

“Can you meet me outside of your dorm in just a minute somehow? I need a way into the building.”

I’ve got my bag of supplies assembled and put together. Shoes on, ready to go.

Alex sighs, just a little overexaggerated, buys herself a second to think before I can hear her pick up again.

“Nah, I know she’s your favorite. I’d invite her but Tobin’s got Spanish homework she’s trying to get ahead on. You know how that is. Don’t worry about it. I’ll just bring her some back.”

And miraculously I actually get it. I get the subtle message she’s trying to give.

“Right. Right. Duh, got it. I’ll leave you to handle the rest.”

“See you in a minute then!” Her voice is bright, cheerful. One hundred percent story accurate and I’m a little worried now by her ability to sell it.

By the time I’ve hung up, I’m already out the front door of my dorm, carefully taking a side route around the main thoroughfare that avoids casual observation. Texting Tobin for assistance on getting in while keeping a wild eye out for anyone that might pose a casual threat to detection.

And when my phone vibrates back in quick response, an easy reply that she’ll be right there but that Kelley and Alex are on there way out of the building, I don’t hesitate. I launch myself in full spy-movie style into the nearest set of shrubs. Right on time, catching view of the pair exiting through the front doors before they can catch wind of where I’d been.

Which is exactly where I’m still at when Tobin walks out and finds me. Where I’ve been waiting out of an abundance of caution. She casts a single hard look before she realizes she can’t play it off. Before she bursts out laughing unable to keep a straight face.

“Alright Master Infiltrator. Let’s go.” She’s chuckling around her words. Picks a few stray needles off my shirt before we start walking towards the front door. “You’re lucky Alex took the bait Em. I hope it’s worth it for whatever you plan on doing.  Alex said she texted Allie and got her to play along too, but it’s gonna cost you. She said she’s being reimbursed for everything she eats tonight. You know just how much she can eat.”

And I’m nodding eagerly. Because it’s entirely like Alex to take the opportunity and run with it. To find a way to win something to her advantage.

But it’s worth it. It’s going to be _so_ worth it.

“You should let me know how that Froyo is. I’m always down for late night snacks.” If I wasn’t already chin deep into this, I’d be begging for a ride-along. I’d be totally content to join in on the excursion. Never mind the fact that the only reason, presumably, that Alex is even going is because I needed her to get Kelley out of the way.

“Yeah, sure. No problem. In any case, you’ve probably got 25-30 minutes tops. It’s not that far and they’ll likely get their orders to go. You should try and be quick with whatever it is you plan to do.”

Tobin swipes her ID to get us inside the building and I’m wasting no time. Walking at a quick pace. Reaching the door to _124_ in record time (not that there’s really a record to break. I’ve only been here once). Tobin’s door is still open across the hall. She’s got music playing from somewhere in there. But I don’t have time for that.

Getting into the building was one thing. Shimmying their door open with sketchily taught lockpicking skills is going to be another.

“It’s open.” Tobin announces from behind me, as though she somehow knows my plans. As if she doesn’t want to see, with some hilarity, my fight with a non-compliant door.

Testing the handle,  I have to admit she’s right. It pops open with ease revealing the promised land beyond.

“You need any help?”

And I do. Time is short. But I can’t accept. I need, at least this one time for the victory to be mine.

“Plausible deniability is a beautiful defense Tobin. I can handle this alone.”

So she just shrugs and walks through the doorway of her room. And it’s at once insanely comforting to know that she trusts me without asking any questions. That she’d trust me alone in the space both of her best friends live in. 

Though it doesn’t stop her from turning around one last time, halfway to her bed where her Spanish book and a laptop actually do wait for her, to warn me.

“Sonnett. One last thing…you do you and all. Lord knows Kel deserves it. Just remember who’s helping you in this. If you wanna live, I’d advise you not to touch any of Alex’s things.”

And it’s true, so very true. But It’s easy when I’ve got no argument to give there. Because I know what that price would be and I’ve got no intention of involving her.  Only on finally reaping some prank justice. On finally evening the scales. So, I just settle for giving her the thumbs up and letting her move on.

Setting myself to work at a frantic pace.  

And it’s a close call. It takes every minute Alex buys me and then another thirty seconds where I’m surprised I don’t end up caught red-handed.

A call that’s unbelievably too close for comfort.

That leaves me beyond thankful that they live on the first floor as I end up shimmying out of Tobin’s window when we hear them walking down the hall. Scraping my sides against the window frame while Tobin promises to take video. Landing in a heap when I drop down, not even bruising my pride as I realize I’m getting away safely. Scampering off in awkward but triumphant flurry.

It’s not just the act though that makes it worth it. The knowledge that I’ve gotten away. It’s the video that Tobin does end up sending that’s priceless. That makes it worth every last bit of effort.

\---------------------------------------

It’s shaky to start. Tobin’s trying to be discreet. Propping her phone up, camera facing out to the hall. Her open door a perfect opportunity.

“Tobs! We’re back! I brought you something!”  Alex’s voice is an echo down the hallway.

Kelley pops into view first, spoon still hanging out of her mouth, holding a cup out to Tobin who pops into view briefly to snag it from her with an easy “Thanks.”

Kelley extraordinarily doesn’t notice the phone, propped up and recording. Doesn’t notice Alex’s questioning face appear behind her. A silent question on whether or not I’ve managed to make it out or if I’m still inside.

I can only assume Tobin signals in an affirmative way that goes unnoticed as Alex relaxes.

“Alright, come on then Kel, let’s leave her to her work. I love her and all, but if she ends up trying to do this work on the bus I’ll rip my own hair out.”

Kelley seems to pout a little before shrugging. Before deciding it isn’t worth the fight.

“Alright. Have fun. Night Tobs.”

Then Kelley’s shoving another full bite into her mouth of whatever concoction she’s created while she turns around. Heads for her own door. Turns the handle while Alex sneaks one last look at Tobin who’s behind the camera.

It couldn’t be scripted better the way Kelley’s movement stops abruptly. All features turning to stone except for her jaw which might as well have dislodged.

“What the f...” Her exclamation, starting at the volume of a whisper only trails off to a tone that the video can’t pick up.

“What’s up Kel?” And then Alex and Tobin seem to spring into action. Knowing but not knowing. The phone swiveling around for a bout of motion sickness-inducing movement as it gets picked up again.

When the picture clears, Kelley’s face still hasn’t changed. She’s still stock still. But now the camera has a better view of what’s happened to cause the reaction. And Alex, who’s finally gotten a view of the interior herself, can’t seem to stifle back the giggle.

Her first break in otherwise flawless character.

Not that I blame her. No one could. In front of Kelley the room has been turned upside down.

Literally.

Kelley’s bed has been flipped over, blankets and sheets still in place. Every paper, random item and article of clothing I could clearly identify as hers had been stacked on top, jigsaw style until it towered. Her desk chair was resting upside on the ceiling, tape threaded through the cross support of the legs and the drop ceiling frame to hold it in place. All the pictures on her bulletin board had been swiveled around on the pins that held them there. At least 15 empty Gatorade and water bottles had been taped to her headboard. Her books for class were taped up in a circle on the wall.

And there, in the center, the shirt that had started this whole day. My name facing out with a note underneath. The easiest way to claim credit for the deed.

“How the…when did…” Kelley tries again. Trailing off as she takes it in.

And for a second I’m worried that maybe she’s actually upset. That maybe it was a bit…’much.’

But I should have known better. Because as her head swivels, as she finally gets a good look at the SONNETT facing out from the wall, she starts to laugh. The disbelief winding down as she gets her bearings in the overturned room.

Alex and Tobin are both chuckling now. Sharing a fist bump. Apparently satisfied with what the short time they’d managed to secure had bought them.

“I know you two have something to do with this.” Kelley announces, tone accusing but only in the friendliest way. Shaking her head as she steps up to tug the note off the wall. Somehow, apparently, still not aware of the fact that the moment is being saved forever despite the fact the Tobin has to be physically holding her phone in plain view now.

She reads the paper silently, but I know what it says.

_I always keep my promises._

And there’s a small extra tug to her lips as her eyes scan the page. The tiniest of head nods while she folds the paper in half, shielding it from view that makes my stomach clench. Makes me well aware that there’s still a feeling there, an undercurrent of something I shouldn’t name but am having a harder time figuring out how to ignore.

“You know you’re totally helping me put all this back where it belongs right?”

It’s aimed entirely at Alex who backs away with her hands held up.

“Doesn’t have a thing to do with me. It’s your stuff.”

I made sure of that. I took Tobin’s warning to heart. Alex is still looking up at the chair. Likes she’s trying to figure out how the feat was even possible. The sly smirk Kelley’s wearing, though, says she’ll figure out some way to wrangle her into it. Some way that I’ll apparently never know as the video ends.

Ends, but is followed closely by the vibration of my phone.

A notification that I’ve been tagged.

That Kelley’s taken a picture, angled it up for a better view, her face the textbook depiction of mock surprise as she shows the scene. Both the chair and the shirt visible.

Captioned it with “Someone’s got some ‘splainin to do!”

But I know that I don’t because before I can respond to that I’m getting a call. A call from a distinctly Kelley-shaped number.

“Sonnett speaking, how may I direct your call?”

I can hear her as she laughs. A breathy chuckle thrown out across the line.

“Oh Touché. You got me. Very nicely done. It seems I’ve underestimated you.”

And I can’t help but to laugh back. Smiling and nodding, facial expressions of success even though I know she can’t see me from wherever she is. That I’m safely back to my own building by now. Hovering just outside, unsure if my own roommate has returned and reluctant to interrupt.

“Well I’m learning from the best, you know.”

And it dawns on me, somewhere between her practically humming a soft “Oh yeah?” and her follow up “Is that right?” That what I don’t hear are Tobin and Alex’s voices. That their ever present dialogue is missing. That any of the typical dorm sounds are absent from the other end of the line. It’s a realization that somewhere between the end of the video and the moment she called me, she’s made an effort to be away and apart.

To have some privacy.

And suddenly I’m gulping at a lump that’s unexpectedly formed inside my throat.

Struggling with a squeezing knot in my chest.

Releasing a rough, “Definitely,” before I can stop the change in tenor.

Because I can’t explain exactly why I’m nervous. Couldn’t tell you exactly why everything feels so out of sorts in less than an instant.

All I know for sure is the tone that Alex’s voice took earlier.

_All I know for certain is that when Kelley disappears to take her phone calls, it means something._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy win against Germany last night!  
> Can't wait to watch the game this weekend.


	7. It's All In The Details

It rolls around faster than I had expected. Each day had seemed like it had been an eternity stretched out. A chore of time to get through that was just putting off the inevitable.

But all waiting comes to an end at some point.

Weeks of preparation. Everything just for this.

The waiting that will feel like nothing more than a flash in hindsight, as all things tend to.

And of course, it’s signaled exactly as it should be. As only it could be in this life that I’m leading. Heralded in by the sudden intrusion of some kind of rap remix that I can’t identify in the muddle of the early morning, but that is so characteristic of one person as to have a single undeniable culprit.

An alarm that could only have been set by Kelley.

The label on the bottom of the screen screaming, “Get out of bed Sonnett! It’s Game Day!”

And I’m sure that my roommate has to love me. She doesn’t have to be awake for class for hours still.  I can hear the muffled grunts into her pillow from across the narrow space. Something that is surely supposed to be actual words. Something that sounds a lot like “Shu it opff. Thas the worst one yet” as she’s burying herself further away from the sound.

And it only serves as a reminder that this isn’t the first time a particular member of the Triad has decided to change the alarms in my phone. Carrie has seemingly become a thing of the past. That maybe some thief has made this become something like a regular occurrence. That maybe this is actually the third time in as many days.

It takes a second before I’m awake enough to muffle out an apology across the room in return. (I don’t really mean it though. If I was truly sorry I’d start putting a lock on my phone so it would stop happening.) But I’m slapping the sound off anyway, dismissing any other potential waiting surprises and sitting straight up promptly.

The realization of what the alarm noted, of what day it actually is comes in a rush. Has me feeling jittery and alive in a flash. Has me hopping out of bed, ninja-style, feet barely seeming to touch the cold linoleum before I’m in the middle of a shower (not forgetting to knock this time of course). Has me flying through actions when normally I have to struggle to even pry the sleep from my eyes.

Because it’s here.

It’s Game Day.

Normally I’m dragging my feet and pawing at my eyes while locking the door back behind me on the way out. So, I’ll admit it’s a little funny the way I’m practically skipping out of the room once I’m dressed, head to toe in team warmups (not that I’ve made much progress on wearing anything but team gear to classes). Funny the way I get a muffled “Goo Luck. Kick assh.” from the mass of blankets on the other side of the still moderately dark room as I’m swinging my bag over one shoulder and leaving in a flurry down the hallway.

What’s unsurprising is when the first text rolls in. The Trio’s group message flashing into life.

‘ _Breakfast?_ ’

That it’s from Alex. Always the first one to suggest a meal despite being the queen of sleeping in.

And I’m heading out the doorway of Wick Hall, focusing on taking the stairs two at a time before I try and actually conquer an answering text, when Tobin’s response lights up.

‘ _My 8am is letting out in just a minute. Meet you there._ _You better not still be sleeping Em. If we’re up, you’re up._ ’

The only natural response to Tobin of course is to respond as though I am in fact sleeping. By which I mean, by not truly responding at all. Just sending back a quick snoring emoji and choosing instead to drag my steps just a hair slower. To extend the time period before I actually make it to breakfast. It ends with meeting Alex and Kelley where the path towards the Student Union meets with the path towards their dorm. It’s a coincidence that’s happened more than once by happy accident.

A coincidence that has happened so often now that it honestly feels so strangely routine. Almost as if we’ve not only done this before, but have made plans for it all along.

It also seems strangely routine to cast an eye towards Kelley first. To feel the undeniable drag to look, almost on instinct, to see what the usual ball of energy in the group is doing. To see where her attention is. To get one unobserved moment to indulge the growing flame inside my chest. And I know that it’s a predicament; know that the way it’s so easy to find her despite the actual growing crowd of people heading to and from classes as they let out is becoming an actual problem with a definable name. But I feel safe, at least for now, that she hasn’t noticed.

At least not today.

Because where I’m being apparently overly observant this morning, she’s distractedly tapping away at her phone. Earbuds in each ear, eyes downcast. She’s being led like a blind horse by Alex, who is in fact looking my way. Who apparently has been looking my way long enough to feel the need to catch my attention with a raised eyebrow that I quickly ignore; that I dismiss before I can start to wonder what exactly she’s seen. Before her expression turns childlike as she turns to cast an eyeroll at our identically dressed companion.

Kelley’s not really an unusual sight for a college campus. It’s honestly pretty typical the way her attention is buried anywhere besides where she’s walking. The casual observer would honestly find the whole thing fairly mundane.

But it’s unmistakably striking to me this morning.

The way Kelley fails to respond to the wave I throw up in their direction. Seemingly fails to notice even when I’ve joined the group as we all now trudge towards a food and coffee salvation. The way she continues tapping away at furious pace as her head bobs lightly, out of sync with the pace of the rest of her actions.

And I might even start to feel suspiciously ignored. Put off. Might feel as though at this point she’s found a way to look at everything else but at me. Which is incredibly odd behavior for her; usually the first to bound up in greeting. (Something I’m embarrassingly becoming overly fond of.)

But then Alex goes and slings an arm around my shoulder whispering “Ignore her. She’s just being a weirdo today. I think it’s something about this being her last first game or something. She woke me up at 6 this morning with her blender after her run. Said something about how if she didn’t have her smoothie she was going to play terrible today or whatever. She’s just being a superstitious idiot.”

_Which is something coming from Alex Morgan._

The volume spilling from the earbuds in Kelley’s ears would suggest that Kelley hears no part of Alex’s complaint. Something I suppose could be confirmed by the way she doesn’t respond. Doesn’t make a move as though she’s offended in the slightest.

With Alex walking shoulder to shoulder though, I decide to let it go. Let it go even though it’s starting to tug at something tangible in my chest. Tug at something that feels very personal for a reason that isn’t quite making sense in contrast to Alex’s perfectly reasonable explanation. That there’s no reason superstition should prevent her from acknowledging my existence.

But I choose to let it go. At least for now.

Until I can get the space and the time and the privacy to figure out what’s going on.

“Yeah. I guess I’m a little nervous too?”

And it’s not like it’s overwhelming or anything, but I have been. The feeling has been sitting there since I woke up to whatever Kelley switched my alarm music to this time. It’s been buried thinly beneath my excitement. Sliding down inside my bones, a drop at a time as the clock ticks away second by second. It’s been living there as we keep losing the moments before the start of our home opener.

But Alex just shakes her head. Practically scoffing at me. Like I’ve said something outrageous.

“Seriously don’t even worry about it. It’s the first one, but it’s not like we’re playing a big team. It’s a confidence builder, more or less. Same thing every year. And we’ve been rock solid in practices. We’ve got this.”

And it’s nice information. Her confidence is assuaging in a way that says she’s speaking from experience. That I need to believe her. But somehow it doesn’t entirely soothe the feeling of discomfort.

Because for me, It’s not just about the strength of the opponent or the strength of our team as a whole. For me, it’s about what is still very much uncertain. It’s about the fact that the starting roster hasn’t been decided on yet. That Coach has been leaving the possibilities open.

 _Loving the feeling of leaving us living in fear,_ as Alex would say.  

And it isn’t as though I’m expecting the world. I know that I’m a freshman surrounded by incredible teammates. That I’m still in the middle of a learning process. But I do want to know what all of the work has earned. What each minute of extra practice has bought. What kind of contribution I’ll be able to make.

But it’s a feeling that becomes easier to ignore when I feel my phone start to vibrate with increasing frequency. Messages starting to flood through the team group chat in quick succession. In a cascade, as it would seem the entirety of the team has woken up or been released from class.

All realizing the possibility floating in the air today.

A multitude of voices all eagerly awaiting the afternoon. Talking about field times for pre-game. About when to be in the training room for treatment. About who has a handle on the pre-game music. About who needs extra stadium tickets for any family or guests who might be showing up.

About all of the things we should have taken care of long before, but that seem to have just snuck up on us without warning.

It’s a dose of team normality to settle the uneasy mood that Kelley’s silence is casting as we walk. Normality and comfort, because I’m not the only one who doesn’t have my life together right now. But it can’t entirely override the way the morning still just feels off. Because I can deal with Coach leaving us hanging, we’re all in that same boat, but Alex’s reassurances on the Kelley front don’t feel so strong when I can’t help but see Kelley’s number mixed in amongst the others.

Mixed in amongst the others even though she still hasn’t said a word; hasn’t cast so much as an eye in my direction (I’m not going into the reasons on why I’d have noticed) as we’ve been walking along.

And I’m not the brightest. Not the sharpest of the bunch when it comes to social situations. I miss too many cues and say the wrong thing or nothing at all too many times for that to not be considered a pattern of awkwardness.

But even I know something is definitely wrong. Even I know that something’s happened that undoubtedly has something to do with me when she takes the time to wave at Tobin who’s juggling her ball mindlessly as she waits for us.  That this isn’t just some misplaced paranoia talking.

Even I know that sometime during the night something has changed.

And I know I’m not the only one who’s noticing, because it’s Alex who holds the door open for me as Kelley fails to extend the courtesy as she walks past. It’s Alex who casts a stony glance that lasts too long at the back of a retreating Kelley.  It’s Alex whose steps grow a little harsher as we find a place to sit.

And it’s Alex who disappears, mid-meal to follow after Kelley who has gotten back up for more coffee while Tobin contentedly wolfs down half a waffle.

Tobin considers talking around a full bite before she reconsiders to chew and swallow. Choosing instead to just shake her head, shrug her shoulders, in a way that screams _I’ve got no idea_. Loses her chance at a well-timed jibe in my direction when she struggles.

Moves instead to help me clean the table of their plates as neither of the two seem to be making any attempt to return.

Just reminds me of the time to be at the field. Gives me a _See you later_ fist bump as I’m forced to go class.

And all I’m left with, between now and then, is the wonderful opportunity to sit in a lecture hall; stewing on how I can be so confused about what just happened while still anxiously waiting for the afternoon. Excited for the game but dreading the inevitability of having to confront this situation again.

\-----------------------------------------------

Class ends just before lunch with my professor taking the time to wish our team luck and encourage any students present to attend the game in support. Alex’s emails have in fact done wonders for my early relationships with the faculty. Which, though it’s a kind gesture, does not fail to make for an awkward end to an otherwise uninteresting wait through the jitters and anxiety leading up to the early afternoon game.

Class ending blissfully on time today does mean, however, that I have the opportunity to meet up with Lindsey and Sam inside the Student Union. Both of whom have already taken the occasion to grab a quick lunch to go, but who I make wait with me anyways. It means I get to be distracted from any worries while listening to them tell stories of their morning while we wait in line. Get to be distracted by stealing bites from Sam’s fruit cup while Lindsey creates a diversion so she isn’t looking. Gives all three of us time to talk about what kind of line-up we think we’re looking at, based on what little we know about who we’re playing. Based on what little hints Coach has been giving.

It’s casual. It’s fun. And mostly, it’s not heavy with the weight of whatever inexplicable thing seems to have happened with Kelley. Let’s that situation and whatever it means drift to the background where it belongs on a day like today. Which is absolutely what I need to focus 100% on the task at hand. To focus on what’s important.

To focus on simply getting to the locker room, on time. Ahead of pre-game report time with enough time to spare for anything that might come up, including picking at my own lunch.

And honestly, I don’t know what I was expecting. I don’t know if I thought it would be any different or absolutely the same as every high school experience I’ve ever had. I don’t know if I really thought about it at all. But walking into the locker room (even though we’ve been practicing here for weeks) for the first game feels a little like coming home.

It’s instinctual. The calming of rattled nerves that have been frayed and dragged through the mud after a lengthy trip down anxiety lane. It’s (metaphorical) silence in the middle of chaos. It’s immeasurably comforting.

Comforting enough even to put aside the apprehension that has been plaguing my internal dialogue. To silence the critic on my right shoulder and play nice with the optimist on my left.  Even if it is only momentary.

And it would turn out that we aren’t the first ones here. Crystal is half fiddling with a speaker dock in the middle of the room while also dancing to the music coming out of it. Taking charge as the team’s DJ representative while she tries, somewhat hopelessly to teach Morgan some kind of dance move. Allie’s talking quietly (for once) with Ashlyn and Ali near their lockers. The way their heads whip around to the door, searching, when the three of us step through, reads like maybe they’re plotting something, though I wouldn’t have a guess as to what. And it’s a curiosity that has me questioning who they’re waiting for. (Spoiler alert: It’s Megan, though I still don’t have a reason as to why.)  Christen has her headphones in, sitting back into the recess of her locker, head bobbing lightly while she picks through a lunch she seems to be sharing with Alyssa who’s reading something beside her. Even Becky’s in the corner getting help with a fishtail braid before the match.

Still, it’s the Triad in the corner who gains my immediate attention. The way Tobin looks up from where she’s apparently struggling with a sock to send a lopsided smile in greeting. The way Alex nods briefly in greeting, face set to game mode as she’s working at tying her pre-wrap into a head band.

The way Kelley’s head snaps at the first indication of the door opening, the immediate notice, face breaking through with a thick look that might sit somewhere between apprehension and guilt that seems to melt just as quickly as she tries to hide it. A look that I have no idea what to do with, followed with a trying-to-be subtle nudge at Kelley by Alex that I can explain even less.

Still, it’s an easy indication that whatever happened this morning, Alex had a talk with her about it. That the disappearance had some sort of effect.  One I may never know about but that has obviously had a significant impact, because wherever Kelley’s head seemed to be at this morning, she’s back to normal now. She’s lighting up, all bright faced and sly grinned, head cocked at an angle. So typical in comparison to this morning.

It’s both comforting and disconcerting. The to and the fro.

“It’s Game Day Sonnett!”

And she’s suddenly bouncing over, slapping at both of my shoulders laughing. A full-on representation of the way she’s turned the entirety of her morning mood upside down. And if I couldn’t see Alex in my periphery, still wearing a wary expression behind her where she should just be shaking her head at Kelley’s antics, I’d be able to throw the morning in its entirety out of mind.

But I know there’s something there underneath the new exterior.

It’s Sam and Lindsey who break the moment of consternation though. Who propel things forward with a shake of their heads reminiscent of the one Alex should be doing. Because this really is normal behavior for Kelley (they weren’t witnesses this morning to her oddity). Normal behavior that absolutely everyone finds absurd most of the time, but that everyone happily accepts as just being a part of her.

“Yeah Kell, it is. Would you mind not beating me to death before we get to actually play?”

And I can’t help the heavy nervous tone. The one that says _Do want to maybe tell me what’s happening?_ Though without so many words.

And her face falls momentarily, like she knows she couldn’t get away with the ping-ponging of her behavior, but was hoping I’d let it slide anyway.

“Sorry. This morning was weird. It’s not—“ I don’t miss the way she stops herself. I don’t miss the way she stops short of saying _It’s not you._ How she cuts into a suddenly different and unexpected direction _. “_ \--I was just trying to deal with an unexpected visitor who’s apparently coming to the game today.”

I must still be wearing a hard look. Must not be quite as passive-faced as I was aiming for because she basically whispers out another “I’m really sorry.”

And it melts the discomfort. The flame licking out at my hesitance and destroying my resolve right there. I can’t hold to the hard questioning line when Kelley’s got eyes that soft and bright staring straight at me.

Before I even realize it I’m sighing. The entirety of my body seeming to shift in a physical representation of letting things go. Letting the oddity and the weirdness slide. Not that I’m entirely satisfied with the reasoning, with everything that she’s leaving to go unsaid. But I’m nodding in acceptance at her apology. There’s no reason to keeps things at this strange intersection. Not when she’s apologized. Not when we’re about to play our first game of the season. Not when this is Kelley of all people.

And she seems to soften even further in response, a tentative smile growing. She shifts around to myself side to bump hips lightly as though she’s still trying to get my attention somehow (as though she needs to make me even more hyper aware of her). And I don’t miss the way she’s still gauging things now. The way it takes her a second to collect her thoughts as she realizes we’re moving on from this. The way she’s watching me give in to this new mood as I move forward to my own locker. To start getting myself prepared as she trails along.

“So. You nervous?” And now she’s talking in a tone that I can tell is just for me. A tone that sits just below the music that’s flooding through the room. That’s ignoring Sam and Lindsey as they start to sort through their things and change nearby. And I’m wondering if maybe she’s asking because she feels it herself. If it’s her own nerves that have her bouncing inside her shoes. That has her guessing on what my state of mind is.

But I choose not to indulge that route. I choose to simply focus ahead. Nodding back. Just once. Nerves are a fact of life. It happens to all of us. It’s the buckling down that matters. The resoluteness regardless of the fact.

And she just responds back with another smile, one that seems to form instantly, that starts to wrinkle at the corner of her eyes. Like she’s got a momentous secret that she wants to share. I treasure trove of something good.  

“You worried about the roster still? That you won’t be on it?”

And I swear she’s been reading my mind (a terrifying thought) before I recall the time we talked about this. Before I realize she probably knows more about me than I’m actually comfortable with when I still don’t know that much about her. (Like the _who_ and the _what is_ behind her sudden mood changes.)

“Yeah, I just wish I knew what was going on. Whatever it’s going to be is fine, I’d just like to prepare myself for whatever.”

And she hums, like she’s contemplating something really profound. Takes the time to open the container of fruit I’ve been carrying from the Student Union to unabashedly steal a strawberry. But she’s still not able to quite hide the look on her face. The crinkle around her eyes that accompanies the bright smile. Can’t quite hide the fact that she knows something that I don’t.

And suddenly my stomach is tumbling while I can’t help but eye her accusingly. Because I’m realizing there’s only one reason for her to have that look. To be wearing that particular expression. To give away that she knows something that I don’t.

And it’s the roster.

That she’s seen it even though I haven’t.

And then she’s pointing to the bulletin board where I hadn’t even given a single thought to looking. (Who would look in the obvious place. Not me, that’s for sure.) An action she knows I haven’t attempted since she’s had me in full view since I got here. That’s she’s held 98% of my attention span all on her own.

And she waits right where she is while she shoos me towards it. While I make the nervous walk to go and look at it.

Alex’s voice comes to mind as I shuffle through the names. _Confidence Building. Not a big team._ But it’s Kelley’s voice that I actually hear. That drowns out the memory as she calls, across the music, starting to dance (terribly) across the room, setting the mood as Crystal joins her.

As she starts to partake in what’s starting to come alive around us. The pre-game rituals.

“Told you Sonnett!” And she’s holding a thumbs up. She’s holding a look of admiration. Like she’s watching me reap a reward I’ve earned.

Like someone who’s so incredibly proud of what someone else has accomplished.

Because there in the starting eleven is my name and my number.

There in the starting eleven is a chance to prove the work we’ve put in.

And I can’t remember anything about why I’ve been on an emotional roller coaster anymore. The only thing on my brain now is the 90 minutes we’re about to spend on the field.

\------------------------------------------

Line up. Roster announcement. Obligatory speech about the rules we’ll be following, the organization who sanctions them, and the respect that we should show. The National Anthem. The whistle blowing to begin play.

The rest feels like blur. A rush of effort. Breathless and charged but steady. A solid central effort that feels more put together than I could have imagined. Falling into a position that is starting to feel like a natural fit. The up-close encounters turn out to be everything I could have asked for, even with the sore joints, the bruised hip I’m sure to have tomorrow.

It’s a hard-earned result that lands us a 2-0 victory on home turf.

A victory that has us all celebrating while we’re sweaty and exhausted. Packing back into the locker room together to get cleaned up before we’re released to go visit with guests. With friends and family.

It’s Tobin who catches me first. Who kicks a ball, catching the back of my calf. Causes the quick slamming of my feet together, knowing what she’s trying for while I eye her in good humor. She laughs, pounds her fist into mine, retrieves her ball.

“You did good!” She pauses to drain a huge swallow from her Gatorade bottle.  “Got that first one under your belt. All onward and upward from here.”

“Thanks. Long as we win, I can’t complain about a performance.”

She just flips her bottle around as though she still has energy to burn somehow. As though she wasn’t just running full-out for over an hour.

“Was that your family in the stands? Could have sworn I saw a big SONNETT shirt out there.” She’s laughing. Just a small dig at the previous shenanigans. My parents weren’t able to make it, I’d discussed it with them last week.

“Oh not this time. It was too far for a weekday trip against an non-conference team, but they said they’re going to try and make the weekend ones. Not a big deal.”

It helps that I know my dad probably watched the stream. That I’m 95% sure when I get to it there will be a list of text messages waiting for me. Every thought of his spilled out in real time.

But Tobin just looks a little sad. A not-quite frown taken residence before she seems to come to some resolution. Like that hadn’t been the response she’d been expecting and now she wants to remedy it.

“Well, hey. Alex and I usually do like, an after game family dinner when we win. You’re coming with this time.” I want to refuse. There’s a paper I could really start writing and I don’t want to be a burden; to cut in on their tradition. It must be written all over my face because without saying a word goes on, she’s not accepting no for an answer. “Look. I’m sharing my mom here. And she’s pretty great. You can’t turn that down. Just go get showered and we’ll go. You got 10 Minutes tops before we leave. You better have clothes on! I don’t want to explain why you’re still half-naked.”

She laughs at her own joke as she walks away to get cleaned up herself. While it’s all a little sudden, unexpected, I can’t help but shake my head and set myself to the task at hand. Grabbing a towel and my spare set of clothes from locker.

For whatever reason, Tobin’s genuine inclusiveness strikes a place that is difficult to deny. I’m sure you can understand.

It takes eight minutes before I’m clean, clothed, and ready to go. Sidling up to Alex who’s throwing a wet ponytail over her shoulder and slipping her shoes back on. Tobin’s has gone MIA, presumably outside to wrangle family members together and let them know about the extra guest.

“You did great today. That goal was ridiculous.”

Alex shrugs, but the way she’s glowing says she’s happier than she’s showing about her performance overall.

“Couldn’t have had that run without you and JJ to flip things back around.” And there’s a moment of pride there. Recognition. A compliment that’s easy to miss as Alex gathers the rest of her things together. “Anyway, we’ll get plenty of time for game talk with my family. Let’s at least get a free meal while we’re having it.”

And then we’re both moving. I’m just trying to keep up as Alex basically double-times it towards the promised meal. Her complaints about eating on campus have already grown to a startling level though so I shouldn’t be surprised.

“Oh hey, I forgot to ask. Is Kelley coming with? I know she said she had a guest or something but I wasn’t sure? Tobin didn’t say?”

And I’ve never seen Alex’s face darken so quickly as she comes to an abrupt halt near the door. Take on such a drastically different shape with a hard jaw and clenched teeth. Hooded eyes. Like a thundercloud that makes me regret asking at all in the first place

I daresay it was almost a kind of resolute anger that seemed so highly out of place.

“Guest? That’s all she said?”

And suddenly I’m have thoughts of them having a talk. Of what things may or may not have been said between them. Of information that may have been left out of Kelley’s pre-game apology. Of the _who_ and the _what_.

“Yeah?”

Alex’s exhalation is audible. Certainly more than a sigh, just not quite to the level of a grunt. Certainly dissatisfaction, but also something else. And then we’re moving again, Alex coming up to the door and shoving it open with a little more force. Looking back to say “I think I need to have another talk about honesty with her.”

But I’m having a hard time hearing her. Having a hard time hearing anything past the flood of blood in my ears. Past the sight of Kelley just outside the locker room with someone distinctly taller than her. Wider than her. Someone who’s got her pulled tight against his chest in a way that screams _Definitely more than friends._

But mostly it’s the look on her face as she catches sight of Alex and I leaving through the thrown open door. It’s the stone hard lock to her jaw. It’s the faraway look in eye.

It’s two things I can’t seem to associate when I haven’t heard a single mention of the figure who is with her. 

Alex wastes no time in interrupting.

“Justin.” It’s matter-of-fact. A somewhat greeting that expects no response. Every bit the tone she’d taken when Kelley had disappeared that day in the Student Union to take her phone call. A tone that easily cuts as Kelley takes a clear defensive step back. “Kell, Tobin and I are on the way to dinner. Em is coming with us. You know that _you’re_ welcome to join us if you want to.”

And she doesn’t wait for a response. Doesn’t watch to see Kelley’s crestfallen face as Alex turns around, obviously unhappy, practically seething.

And all I can do is turn heel to follow, wearing the most obviously confused face I’ve ever known.

Because I’m realizing it’s been in all the details the entire time, if only I’d had the eyes to see it.

It’s Kelley disappearing on the final day of preseason. It’s phone calls that need privacy from Alex’s obvious distaste. It’s Kelley asking for an extra ticket this morning. Her unexpected guest. It’s the way she danced around specifics in her apology.

And I can feel the weight of the hairs raising on the back of my neck.

Trying to ignore the ache in my chest for what feels like a hollow hope.

Such a familiar feeling. The weight of her eyes while she's watching me walk away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy weekend folks. Feelings? Whose got bets on where we go next?


	8. Priorities and Afterthoughts

The sun is just starting to set and the warmth of the day is finally breaking. We’re hurtling down the road heading towards downtown well above the speed limit. Alex is sitting in the driver’s seat, trying to look like she doesn’t care; like she’s entirely unaffected. Face a passive mask, lips just barely pinched tight, eyes focused on the road.

The white knuckle grip she’s got on the wheel gives her away.

It’s hard to say anything. Hard to break the thick silence that’s enveloped us even though we’re sat side by side. Tobin’s gone ahead with her family, choosing instead to ride with them and meet us there. Without her here, it’s like the soundtrack has gone quiet. There’s nothing but the sound of the engine and the roadway coming through the open windows. Nothing but the sights and the smells of the city nightlife yawning itself alive.

Coming alive like all the questions in my head.

Questions like how I could have missed someone who’s apparently an important figure in her life. How she could never have made a single reference to him. How she didn’t have a single picture of him in her room (And I would know; I took the time to flip that room upside down).

Questions like why she didn’t feel that she could tell me.

And it isn’t until we hit a light that’s been red so long I’d have a heart attack if Alex decided to run it that she finally breaks the silence. (Does what I’m not sure I have the courage to do, regardless of my curiosity.)

“Sorry for the…scene I made or whatever.”

It’s a little flippant, but her tone is soft. Her face just slightly downcast and she’s started to pick at the skin around her thumbnail while we’re waiting. For as long as I’ve known her (granted it’s not that long) Alex has shown she doesn’t do apologies. That she chooses instead to simply keep moving forward. So I know, even now in my limited time, that these honest moments alone with her are a rarity. A privilege.

I also know that each of us handles the unexpected in different ways. It’s called the unexpected for a reason. There’s no predictable response to a situation we aren’t prepared for. She may have some room to explain, but has nothing to apologize for.

“It’s all good.” I’m pairing it with a shrug, turning to look away from her momentarily to let it sink in. To gather myself before I start throwing out every question threatening to spill through the now broken ice. “Who—uh. Who was he?”

I settle for neutral. Neutral tone. Neutral question. Allow her to take her own direction. (Confident the white knuckles from before say she’ll tell me what I’m actually curious about.)

“Who? Justin?” She sounds just slightly taken aback. As though I could have been talking about anyone else.  As though there were any other _He’s_ to mention. She hasn’t even taken the time to call and talk to Servando yet. Still, it leaves her hard-faced again, jaw clenched nonetheless.

But even that only lasts for a moment. Only the briefest of seconds before the exterior cracks again. Before she’s shifting away from whatever emotional surge has thrown itself forward.                                                                                 

 “We don’t...uh…Kelley and I don’t…”

She’s visibly struggling for words. Alex, who always has something to say with Plan B through Z as back-up is fumbling for what to say. Which, in contrast to the earlier outburst, let alone her entire normal way of operating, says something. The way she’s trying to phrase whatever she’s trying to say just right. Like she doesn’t want to get this wrong. And it leaves me hesitant to interrupt her, to try and fill in the blanks with imperfect words even if it would mean helping her along.

The light changes back to green and we start moving once again towards the waiting families. She takes a deep breath and lets it out before she continues. Words tumbling out again at the same speed as traffic. Slow and measured, but moving towards the destination.

“I guess I should try and explain. Since Kel has failed to fill you in. Kelley’s been with Justin on and off for what feels like forever now. They were together before I met her. They were together before she even got to college. So that’s, what…” She thinks hard on it a second. I can tell by the way she chews at the inside corner of her lip. “…five years now? I mean, I never liked him much to begin with, but you can take that with a grain of salt if you want. Tobin keeps telling me I act like Kel’s older sister. _That I’m the sibling who thinks no one is ever going to good enough for her._ ”

I can see that. Find myself nodding involuntarily at the prospect of it. Can see Alex being the kind who’s a little overbearing. A little overprotective. Even if she isn’t actually older. Even if I’ve also seen her act the child just as much as the rest of them.

“But Kel just says…well something about how it’s just always felt like he’s been this ‘inevitable thing’ for her. Whatever that means. Even when she finally gets sick of him and his antics it’s like he knows he can just come crawling back in a couple of months. No matter what it is that he says or does, she always ends up forgiving him.”

She’s stopped weaving through the tangle of cars now. Choosing to just follow along behind a dark colored Camry going just about the speed limit. I can’t decide if she’s buying time to talk, to get this out before we’re enveloped by the two families; or if we’re just too close to the restaurant for her to pass at will.

Regardless, she sounds sad now. Not angry or hard or bitter or venomous. Just a tendril of ache entwining with her tone. The kind that I’m not sure I’ve ever heard her use before.

“I mean, I thought that this time was the final straw. That I wouldn’t be seeing him again after everything. But, I guess I should have figured with a track history like that, that he’d be back again. He’s just this… _cockroach_ that won’t seem to die.”

Even though she skips a few major events, I can suddenly see there’s been a flaw to my observation. As the details start fitting themselves together, it dawns on me that I’ve read it all a little wrong. That it isn’t anger or bitterness when it comes to the outbursts. At least not towards Kelley.

It’s exasperation.

“So…Wait.” And I take a second of my own. Take the time to filter through the questions I have. Ready myself to shoot rapid fire for once because if this is the one moment I’ve got, I know I need to take it.

“This is a regular thing?”

“Unfortunately.”

“And they’re back together now?”

She chews at her lip again. Taps a thumb against the steering wheel. Goes to say something, pulls back the words, rolls her eyes and tries again.

“Well…I didn’t exactly ask, but you saw what I did. Call that however you want to.”

And I’ve got nothing to offer there but the hum of an agreement. An agreement settling in withtjust the slightest drop of doubt. (Seeing isn’t always believing.)

“So, what happened the last time? I mean, you say that it’s happened before, but you make it seem like there was something…extraordinarily bad with the, uh, most recent case.”

She shifts in her seat a little. Not in any distinct way that would say anything worthwhile, but enough to say there’s something that’s sitting uncomfortable in her mind.

“Like…he didn’t hurt her, did he?”

And I can’t help the quiet way I’m asking the question. Like maybe my biggest fear is this freckle-faced goofball having the sunshine physically torn out of her. Like maybe I’d be ready to stand toe-to-toe with him and I’m a little bit afraid of the way that might come through if I ask the question full volume.

“God no. He wouldn’t have a hand anymore.”

And something about the casual tone makes me believe her. Something about the steely glint in her eye as she glances over makes me shiver inside just a little at the thought that Alex, given the right motive, in all probability, would bodily dismember someone.

“So, then what happened?”

Alex pulls her eyes off the road again. Momentarily. Just long enough to give a single look in my direction. One that I can’t quite discern. Laced with language I still can’t read but wish that I could.

I can see the sign for the restaurant just up ahead now and I know that time is running short.

 “A friend of hers found out he’d been a real… _idiot_. Went on a bender one night. Like, movie style bad. Drugs. Alcohol. Got into a fight. Got kicked out of three different bars. And then he ended up cheating on her. _Again._ ”

I don’t miss the soft tenor that slips into the last word. And I certainly no longer question the boldness Alex takes when he’s brought up.

“Well he…certainly sounds like a real winner.”

She hums. Just enough that I know she agrees with the statement.

We pull into the parking lot to see Tobin waiting outside on the sidewalk for us. Happily rocking back and forth, heel to toe when she sees us. Waving overexcitedly, hand held high up overhead. Looking like she hasn’t seen us in weeks rather than the short amount of time between leaving the field and here.

Alex takes a second to take a last breath and park the car. She wipes her hands on her shorts, in the way some people do when they’re nervous. (Alex doesn’t get nervous. It looks like she’s wiping away her distaste for the subject instead.) Then cracks her neck and turns to smile instead.

“Anyways. It’s over. We’re here. And we’ll deal with it later. Let’s go spend time with better company. Tobs has obviously been lost without us.”

And it’s easy to follow her. To join into the celebration with their families. Easy to set thoughts about this on the backburner. Easy because it’s preferable. Because I’m thrown by the information. Because nothing about Kelley is adding up right now. I’m not particularly good at math, but these aren’t the answers I thought I’d be getting. And, frankly, I’d rather swallow the taste of a celebration dinner than try to knot my mind in a circle and try to swallow the idea that Kelley can think it’s inevitable that she ends up with him.

So instead we move on. In true Alex style.

And we’ll think about what happens later. Later, when I’m not surrounded by the goodness of the families in this restaurant. Later, when I can think about what I intend to do about this without Alex’s watchful gaze and Tobin’s unknowing laughter.

And I wonder, if the way my chest keeps knotting tighter as the moments tick by is the way Alex feels while she pushes down the disdain, or if this feeling is unique. If this feeling is mine to hold alone.

\--------------------------------------------------

Their families are wonderful. They’re kind and inclusive and it makes me ache for my own in a way I hadn’t realized I would. In a way that has me hiding at my end of the table while the conversation continues around us, reading each of the myriad of messages I’d always known were waiting from my father.

Beginning somewhere around ‘ _I don’t understand??? What are you doing in the back?’ M_ oving progressively through to ‘ _tell your school to get a better media manager! I need a better following camera!’_ and ‘ _you got lucky they didn’t call that foul on you’._ Ending with ‘ _Proud of you kid. You’ll have to call me later. Let me in on who’s been teaching you all the moves.’_

And there’s something that lights up in your heart when you read a running dialogue like that. I’m so sure it wouldn’t just be mine. Knowing my father is a little clumsy with his fingers. A little slow with a touchscreen. Knowing he put in the effort to let me know just how closely he paid attention.

And I’ll admit, maybe I love the way it gives me a good reason to excuse myself from the group. To thank both families profusely for allowing me to join them before I find myself wandering out of the restaurant doors to take a call outside. To take the chance to get a moment alone. Where I get to fill in my father about all the things he’s missed since my last phone call. To let him in on the great secret of the position change. To unintentionally fall into a session of bragging about Kelley. The ringleader of the _Teach Sonnett Club_. Not even realizing how easily it all still flows despite the earlier events. The way I can’t seem to stop myself from disgorging compliments.

To realize, suddenly, just having her around has been more than just the fire and the flame that’s been building. That it’s everything else as well. That she’s simply become...too important not to mention. A fixture.

But it isn’t long before both Alex and Tobin are both exiting outside as well. Before we’re all standing in what is now a lamplit parking lot. Before I find myself suddenly word shy around the man who I’ve told everything to throughout my entire life. Not exactly wanting to share the way I’ve been gushing.

Then Tobin is slinging an arm around my shoulder, mouthing _who you talking to?_ Before she’s practically shouting “Tell your Dad we said hi! But that we’re kidnapping you now so it’s time to go!” when she gets her response.

And I can hear my father’s laugh over the line, obviously having heard. The full belly laugh that I know makes his shoulders shake. Responding with “Tell her she can have you. See how long before they hand you back.” And it’s just another ache. A warm tug at my sternum. One that screams about love and connection and all my good choices and the way that I miss him.

Tobin just grins big in response when I tell her. Shrugs her shoulders. Taps her head comically as though the man who is hundreds of miles away can see her.

“Oh. I’m sure we can figure out some method of dealing.”

To which my father just laughs again. To which he mentions in a low voice he knows won’t carry across the speaker _that he likes that one._ After which he simply wishes me a good night. That he can’t wait to come see a game in person soon. Leaves the line with the abrupt silence of an ended call.

“Alright. In the back Sonny.” That would be Alex who’s currently flipping her key ring around, fishing for the right choice.

“Shotgun is mine.” Tobin calls out. Basically skipping just a little bit till she’s hanging over the passenger side door. Looking straight at me with a wink and a dangling grin. “The elderly need their leg room ya know.”

And that’s it. We all climb back into Alex’s car. And I’m left alone to sit in the back.

But I’m not left out of the group. I’m not left with nothing but my own thoughts as the ride to campus is filled with their banter. I’m not left wondering how we could have made such an abrupt end to the conversation where so much weight existed that seems forgotten now.

(Not really. Even though it’s there. Pressed into the darkest corner.)

Instead I’m just a part of them. All of us singing equally horrible to Tobin’s 90’s playlist. Both of them teasing when I don’t know all the words. Dancing in our seats as the cars pass by. All of us, finding a way to work through what each of us has looming over us. Our stress (Alex), our leftover energy (Tobin), our future decisions (myself), before we all collapse into bed like the petulant children we are who’ve gone too long without a nap.

And it’s funny the way that it works. The way it all works so well. Well enough to nearly miss the vibration of my phone. To miss the message sitting there with a Kelley shaped contact name.

And it takes a second staring at the screen before I know I can’t open it while I’m here with them. For whatever reason I know that this is something that I shouldn’t be showing them. And I tuck my phone back into a pocket. Back and away, _out of mind out of sight._

And it’s only then that I have the offhand thought while Tobin’s swirling her hand outside the car window and Alex is singing at top karaoke volume that I wonder about this careful balance to their trio.  If this settling is what Tobin does. For Alex. For Kelley. Them, all heat and passion and emotion and energy; Tobin, the cool and the calm, the ease and the contentment. If Tobin is the glue who makes the differing in their personalities work.

And I wonder if Alex, who’s trying not to start laughing hysterically in the front seat, biting at her overwhelming smile knows the way Tobin is settling her. The way these are the first real smiles I’ve seen since before we exited that locker room.

What I mean to say is, it only takes a second, practically a moment of whiplash, to realize there are invisible lines drawn; apparent, even if you can’t see them.

Fire and Water and Tobin.

And I wonder, if there’s a fourth element added here, how long that delicate balance would hold.

\-------------------------------------------------

It takes another two hours to actually leave their company. We ended up kicking a ball outside of their dorm on the green. Just passing it back and forth, content in ignoring school and responsibilities and outside life while we continued to celebrate our season opening win. While we continued to ignore the missing element here.

While I resisted the urge to see what she had to say.

In fact, it wasn’t until Sam and Lindsey wandered by, heading to the dorm after spending their evening after the game in the library. Looking haggard and laden down after finishing work for class tomorrow. It isn’t until I mention wanting to walk back with them that I actually find my escape. And even then, it isn’t until I’m safely back into my own dorm that I end up pulling my phone back out. It isn’t until I’m changed into a cutoff and athletic shorts, curled into the safety of my bed, hidden under the covers that I chance a look at the screen. That I realize it’s time to stop putting this off.

That I notice that the one message has multiplied.

_Are you in your room? 8:36p_

_Not in your room. I checked. Tell your roommate sorry. 9:12p_

_I’ll do better next time. 9:13p_

_Off campus. Let me know when you’re back. 9:38p_

_Shuld I guess youre with Al nd Tobs? 9:43p_

_They wern’t back yet either? 9:45p_

_Cn you callme? 10:15p_

_Em? 10:38p_

The influx of emotion is instantaneous. Guilt for putting off responding. Guilt for not sneaking away to check in with her. Guilt for not telling Alex or Tobin that she’d messaged in the first place. Confusion for why I’m the person on her mind. Confusion over why she’s texting me when she had plenty of other valid company. Worry over the state of her progressively worsening spelling.

Breathe in. Breathe out. One thing at a time.

I’m throwing the covers back and sitting up in one fell swoop.

“Kelley said sorry for earlier?”

My roommate, who’s been buried in books at her desk since I got back looks up. Looks confused for a moment before a sense of realization washes over her.

“Oh! Tell her it’s seriously not a problem. She apologizes too much. Just tell her to share next time she stops by.”

I can’t help the way I hesitate.

“Uh, share?”

She laughs across the space. “Yeah, she had a Gatorade bottle that definitely had more than just Gatorade in it. I just said that if she was gonna walk around with it, she ought to bring some to share. I was just joking.”

I can’t help the way my stomach tightens. The way it starts to roll. The way I know, _just know_ , that this information changes things. That this isn’t just Kelley as I’ve always known her. That this is going to be something different entirely.

Because Kelley’s drinking. And that’s an experience I’ve never had with her.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Untangle the knot.

“Alright. I’ll let her know what you said.” Swinging my feet out of bed, I’m already searching through the mess for my birkenstocks.

“Yeah, yeah. Sure. Seems like a good time. Tell her to come hang out some time.” She’s already burying herself back into the stack of papers.

“Will do.” Victory! From the depths of a clothing mountain I find what I’m looking for. “Hey, I’m gonna head out for a little bit, not sure how long I’ll be but I’ll try and be quiet coming back.”

She waves me off.

“Working on this paper for philosophy. I’ll be at it awhile. Don’t worry.”

And then I’m out. Keys in one hand, phone in the other. Not even bothering to have changed. Not caring a single bit what I look like as I’m shutting the door behind me and searching through my contacts. Not a thought in my head except static noise while the ringing starts.

“Em.” Her voice is low and heavy and sugary. Nearly just a rumble in her chest. “Hey.”

“Hey Kel.” The background noise is indistinct. Just music and voices. “You asked me to call you?” Laughter and something else metallic. “I’m sorry I took so long.”

“S’okay. You called now. Now I know you’re not just ignoring me.”

The hard inhalation is involuntary. A wounded response despite knowing the truth of it.

“Why would I ignore you Kel?” As though I don’t already know. I had ignored the messages. I had put them off. But certainly not for any reasons she could have comprehended. Not for any reasons I could hope to try to explain.

“You left with Alex earlier. Didn’t get a chance to explain.”

It’s true. She hadn’t explained anything and the questions between now and then have only grown. Have only magnified. The price of putting them off being the growing desire to have them answered.

“Would you…” I check my watch. It’s after 11 by now. “…Would you want to explain now, maybe?”

Sleep can always be sacrificed for the greater good.

Sleep can always be sacrificed for the answers I want.

“Yes.” Her response is immediate. A startling change to her otherwise languid speech. “Yeah, I’d like to do that. Could you come and get me? I caught a ride to Pinoe’s and I’m ready to come back.”

The background noise is explained now. The background voices registering more clearly. With an idea of what to listen for it’s easier to identify over the music.

“I don’t know how to get there.”

“Well, I’m bad at directions at the best of times.”

“Well what do you want me to do genius?”

Her pause is palpable. Just the overflow of background noise as she thinks. As I can feel the wheels turning in her head. Working hard through her options before she’s breathing in sharply, taking off running with whatever she’s settled on.

_“Chris! Chris. Chris. Christen. Press. Presssss.”_

_“Kel. Kel. Kel. Kelley. I heard you the first time. What’s up?”_

_“Em needs directions.”_

_“Em? You mean Sonnett? Oh…kay. Give me your phone. Kelley. Stop pouting. Seriously. You’re not being a direction middleman. That’ll be like a terrible game of telephone and you’ll end up sending her who knows where._

There’s a rustle and a whine.

What I think sounds something like “ _Hurry up.”_

And then Press. Her voice far steadier than the one preceding her. Far brighter.

“Emily. Hey.” It’s funny. The way I can tell that she’s been drinking as well, can hear it in her pitch and tone, but can also pick out how crisp she still sounds. Funny how uniquely intoxicated she can be.

“Press. Hi. She’s okay right?”

“Kelley? Yeah. She’s alright now. You needed directions?”

And I’ve never been more thankful for her efficiency. Having already traveled the distance to my car by the time Christen got ahold of the phone. Already buckled and ready, engine idling, waiting for a command and destination.

“Yes. Please. I’m coming from—“

“Wick. Yeah. I got you. Alright this is what you’re gonna do…”

\-----------------------------------------------

There’s a fire crackling.

Just a small set of flames that spit out spark and ash. A fluid wavering. Light and heat licking up from a small ring of layered bricks. Leaping and dancing out in soft hues of orange. Thin streaks of blue. Hot, bright, and fleeting. A little thing that had been started with old class notes and fed with scrap wood until it grew.

The heat of the season hasn’t even truly broken yet. There’s just been the barest of changes. It’s still effectively summer; no one is cold.

What I’m saying is, essentially, it’s unnecessary. But it’s nevertheless entrancing.  
Just a beautiful wild thing lighting up the darkness in the middle of the night.  
Just the gentlest traces of burning to mix with the smell of city in the air.  
  
A beautiful and entrancing distraction that catches my eye almost as much as Kelley does as she’s sat beside it. Happily rocking backwards as she chuckles over something that’s been said. Legs kicking out back and forth like a child. Head resting on her knees, tilted sideways.

She’s not the only one here. Obviously. They’re all drinking from Gatorade bottles filled with something that is decidedly _not_ Gatorade. Simultaneously, I’m half-lost, trapped between the back door of Megan’s house and the fire ring of people. Not exactly a party, but certainly an oversized gathering. An unplanned home-opener victory celebration it would seem. A firm advantage taker of tomorrow’s day off.

“Sonnett! You made it!” Allie’s voice chirps up from whatever conversation she’s having.

“Allie. I told you I was giving her directions. Of course she made it.” Christen pipes up from behind me as she shuts the door to the house. She’d at least been nice enough to retrieve me as I’d pulled into the driveway. Commanded Kelley in the background of the call to wait where she was. That she’d be back in just a minute.

“Yeah? Tell that to the guy from the bar who called you and ended up in the entire wrong town.” Allie looks smug. Practically drenched in the feeling.

“Allie. I gave him directions to the Taco Bell. I wanted to talk to him about as much as I want the aftermath of their food.”

Allie looks surprised for just a moment. Maybe even a little offended at having been refuted.  But then she just bursts out laughing. Slapping at her knees as she tries and fails to control herself, half gasping for breath.

“Seriously Chris?”

“My idea!” And there she is. Kelley’s voice piping up proudly from the fireside. From her location on the ground. From the spot where she’s staring straight at me from.  All hairs raising on the back of my neck.

She just smiles, lopsided and full.

“That it was.” Christen nudges us both towards the fire. Happily stepping us both closer to the group, either acutely aware of my awkward indecision or drunkenly fortunate. Either way I’m thankful to have had that decision made for me. “And I think he got the message. Never heard from him again.”

The group laughs. All speech starting to stumble over each other as they start filling in details of what they remember to Allie’s eager ears.

I can’t focus on any of those specifics though. Not when Kelley’s resting her head against her knees again. Tilting just the most minuscule amount in my direction, softly patting the ground next to her. An invitation to an open spot. An open spot I can’t help but to take. To plant myself down in before turning towards her.

“So. I’m here. Are you ready to go?” It’s softer than I’d intended. An octave below the chaos of the group who’s still lost in their own conversation. She’s so close now we’re almost touching. I can feel the heat radiating from her. All the heat she’s soaked up from the nearby flame.

She plays with the hem of her shirt, still smiling just slightly as she nods.

“Mmhm. I’m ready. Alex is already mad. I might as well get it over with.”

I don’t mention that it was silly of me to of even sat down. That I could have simply helped her up and we could have been on our way. Instead she stands up and dusts herself off. Not even a wobble to her step, perfectly in control despite the flush in her cheeks. The lilt in her speech.

“…Yeah. But I thought maybe you and I could talk first? Like we said earlier?”

She reaches down, hand extended. Pulls me up with an ease that’s still unsettling. That still doesn’t match her size. Plays the part I should have done.

“I thought that was a given.” She makes moves to wave goodbye to the group. To catch their attention and let them know that we’re leaving. That her carriage home has arrived and it’s time for her to go.

She doesn’t let go of my hand though. She’s turns them together instead. Threads them loosely while my stomach makes an identical move. Finds a way to pull us closer together without anything feeling out of place, out of the norm.

It leaves me clearing my throat, searching for a joke to alleviate things.

“Well, what? Does that make Alex the afterthought?”

And the look she gives is so unyieldingly open that it takes me by surprise before she even goes to speak. Leaves me forgetting there was ever any issue at all. Any reason why there might be trouble or conflict. Any thought that there might be another piece to this puzzle.

Or maybe ignoring is the better word. Maybe I’m finding no reason to pay it any mind when she looks at me like that.

No far away eyes. No stone jaw. Just the scent of Whiskey on her breath (so close I can smell it), just a soft tugging at the right corner of her mouth. Just a soft tugging at the laced fingers of our hands as she goes to lead us away from the group.

“Alex is _never_ an afterthought.  But it makes _you_ my priority.” 

And then, I’m nothing more than a puddle on the floor.

A puddle who’s finding it really difficult to care about an undeserving boy or an overprotective best friend.

Next to impossible, really.

And I’m following, hand in hand through Megan’s house and out to my car before I realize I don’t know what kind of person this makes me.

What kind of misplaced moral compass I’m suddenly following.

Where I’m finding it’s too hard to care, to give a damn when she’s right here.

When she’s right _here_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I caught a thing and I ended up sick, but I still wanted to give you something. I've been frantically typing away at this for the past few hours to get it finished before i get to sleep and haven't had a lot of time for proofing. Sorry for any glaring mistakes. I'll getting around to fixing them all at some point.
> 
> As usual, share your thoughts! I love hearing them.


	9. Toeing the Line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The specific song in mind later referenced is Chet Faker/Talk is Cheap. Full disclosure of course. (Also Gold and Lesson in Patience if you enjoy that) Which is recommended listening as with anything I've mentioned. But not a requirement.

It’s a ten minute to drive Megan’s House from campus. Ten minutes that includes everything from a picturesque city skyline, high-rise buildings lit with blue tone lights, to the seemingly abrupt change into the industrial art district; boarded up factory windows and sculptures co-existing, before finally opening up to a residential portion of the city.

Christen’s directions to the casual listener would have seemed outrageous. _Make a left at the three-story tall fire hydrant, and then a right at the corner of Fifth and Main. Yes, the sign is right. That is actually a law office. Did you know it’s got over twenty floors? I had an internship there one semester. Also, that bagel shop you probably just passed? Best smoothies in town and they have dog specials on Tuesdays. Favorite stop of the week. You should come with me sometime. You like dogs right?_

All of these obtuse elements that fit into this strangely enticing cohesive whole. A hundred different things to see that had most definitely elongated my initial trip needlessly due to the unavoidable gawking.

The way back to campus though is a different story.

There’s no parking meter Metal Man Sculpture that can drag my attention away. There’s no architectural marvel worth looking at when what I have sitting in the opposite front seat is better.

In all honesty, it’s probably a little dangerous the way I can’t seem to remember most of the drive back at all. Can’t remember taking the streets, turning the corners, watching for traffic. Even though I know (instinctually) that I did all of those things.

Instead I’m practically jolting to in the middle of an intersection when Kelley speaks in a soft voice. Realizing I’ve had my attention enraptured in her, freely and unapologetically, since we pulled away from the house.

“Confession.”

And I can’t help the confusion that leaks in at the same pace as the words flung out across the space.

 “…You can tell me anything?”

She chuckles in a way that seems like it’s more for my benefit than her own amusement.

“No. I mean…” She trails off briefly before continuing, voice low and grumbling but warm. Inviting. “Tell me something I don’t know. About you.”

And she’s turning to look at me now. Head resting in her right hand, leaning on the frame of the car door and the open window. Left hand picking restlessly at a loose thread in her shorts.

“I thought you were supposed to be the one doing the talking.” The quick side glance that follows is only  natural. Eyes trailing the entirety of her in a way I surprisingly don’t feel guilty for.

She lifts her eyebrows briefly. The smallest, slightest, acknowledgment of my point that I would have entirely missed had I actually been paying attention to road safety. If I had had my undivided attention on the flow of other traffic rather than on her.

“I will. I’m just curious.” Her voice sounds heavy, like it’s been coated in syrup, and I can’t decide if it’s exhaustion or alcohol or something else entirely finally starting to take its toll. “Please?”

And I know that it’s impossible to not give in to that request. To the plaintive note in her voice as she asks.

I know it in the way that my brain has already settled on something before I even realize I need to struggle for something to latch onto.

 “How about for every…confession I give you…” I choose to use her wording, lips forming meticulously over her phrasing, “…you have to give me something back.”

Not that I’m letting her have it for free.

She nods easily. Like this is the most agreeable solution she’s ever heard and I’m almost a little surprised at how effortlessly that suggestion rolls over.

“It’s got to be something I don’t already know though.”

And the tone of her voice, the eagerness threaded into the words, has me feeling like this is less of an explanation for her and more of a game. A way for her to get some intangible thing.

“Deal.” I’m only mildly worried at best of what I’ll give up in exchange. Her truths far more enticing than my own personal privacy. So very little to worry about sharing when there’s so very much to gain in return.

“So then…?” She’s just starting to smile, right corner of her mouth tugging upwards in the same way her words do. In miniscule movements.

“I love music.”

No one starts these things at the bottom of the well. You have to sink slowly, of course. Digging one layer, one level deeper at a time.

So, I expect one of two things in response. I expect her to reveal something of equal consequence (The more likely). Or, I expect her to say, _not good enough, try again (Which would be very much a **her** thing to say with that grin she wears so often)._

What I don’t expect is, “Oh? Play me something.”

What I don’t expect is the way she doesn’t ask for context as we pull up to a stoplight, inexplicably (yet conveniently) red. No questioning as to _why_ that’s the starting point. Not even a spoken thought as to _what kind?_

Instead, it’s a profoundly intimate request as she plugs her phone into the aux cord hanging from my dash and offers it over. As though we’ve done this a million times.

It’s my first instinct to play something that I know that she’ll like. Something that maybe I’ve heard her listen to. Maybe even one of those ridiculous raps she’s set my alarm to. Just to let her know that I’ve been listening.

_We all seek approval for our choices._

But I realize I can’t do it. Or rather, somehow, I know that’s not what she wants. At least not from me. Not in this moment.

So it takes an extra second of thought before I’m tapping letters into the search bar. Before Chet Faker is playing softly over the sounds of the city at night. Introductory Saxophone blending with the night air as we take off again as the light slips (conveniently) back to green.

She remains unexpectedly quiet the rest of the way. Eyes half trained on the city outside the car, half dancing around the edges of me. In the mirrors. In the reflections from the glass. In all but the most obvious of ways as she takes the last three minutes of the drive in contemplative silence. And it’s a little unnerving, wondering what exactly is going through her mind, but for once I’m content to sit in silence. To simply soak in her presence before this conversation gets harder.

We don’t always need to fill the space between the notes.

It isn’t until we pull up finally, parking back near the dorms on campus that she makes any major movements.

Makes a move to exit only when the last note of the song fades. Humming in a way that doesn’t spell a positive or negative reaction. And it’s a little disconcerting, wondering with anticipation about the strength of the choice. Her face though, as we both step out, tells in a quiet way that it simply _is._ That it doesn’t matter. That she’s gotten what she’s wanted. That she’s well more than satisfied. (And I wonder what she’s found in those notes, in those lyrics, intentional or not.)

She takes a deep breath, holds it and releases, scrunches her nose briefly, before she takes a step away from the car, decidedly not in the direction of either dorm.

Choosing instead to meander, taking slow languid steps that I’m sure I’m simply expected to follow.

(I do.)

“When I was….oh I don’t even know, lets just say younger. I got so homesick I made my dad pick me up from my first sleepover at a friend’s house.”

It’s a fun fact I can’t imagine. The way she’s so at ease here. The way she barely mentions even wanting to go home.

“You? Homesick? I see you being like…a big traveler”

She chuckles lightly, hops up on a decorative curb and balance walks her way across it.

“Oh yeah. Major homebody. I didn’t even have the presence of mind to be embarrassed that night. It was pretty bad.”

She grins in a self-indulgent way. In a way that lets me know she’s got memories flashing inside that head of hers.

“I’m terrified of being alone in the woods.” She turns, pivoting on her heels to start walking backward along the path now, eyes still focused on me.

“What? Why? What’s so scary about them? Big bad Em afraid of the trees?” She’s teasing but it’s lighthearted. Leaves me imagining her being the kid that could tease anyone and still wind up best friends with them.

“I got lost once. It was terrible. My parents had taken my sister shopping for something and left me with my grandparents who lived in the country. I was out there for hours before I finally managed to hear them shouting.”

She looks genuinely intrigued.

“So you’re like a real life search and rescue survivor.”

“Not exactly. I mean…If I’d walked in any one direction I’d have walked out the other side and figured out where I was. But I just kept getting turned around and basically walking in circles. My mom made me take a walkie-talkie with me anytime I went anywhere alone after that.”

She outright laughs at that one. A barking laugh that she can’t hold back despite her best attempts to stifle with her hand.

“A walkie-talkie? Seriously?”

And I’m chuckling right back.

“Listen. This was before the age of children having cell phones!”

She laughs again. Full-bellied and loud. Casts another full look in my direction, eyes full of amusement before she changes the direction we’re walking. Swinging back toward the Student Union in a wide arc.

\---------------------------------------------

We’ve been playing this game for the last twenty-five minutes at least. Each tradeoff a little more personal than the last. A progressive shift with an ebb and flow.

We can both feel it coming. The heavier topics. The things we really want to know but have needed the time to work ourselves into. To build a level of understanding.

A way to ensure each other, without ever saying it, _you’re not in this alone._

“Confession: There are 27 bones in the human hand.”

It’s the first thing she’s said with a kind of softness that projects importance in the last thirty minutes, but it literally doesn’t make any sense to me.

I can’t help the quizzical look that forms. Head tilting the way a dog’s might as it tries to understand. A look that might potentially scream, _are you more drunk than I thought?_

“That’s less of a confession and more of a fun fact, Kell.”

She looks over from where she’s stopped walking. From the deserted quad between the research library and the Center for Future Educators. The buildings directly next to her dorm.

“Less of a fun fact and more of an anatomy lesson.” She teases back in an easy way before going quiet again.

I make no move to interrupt her this time though. Leave her room to get through the point she wants to make. To delve into whatever has been on her mind since the beginning of this thing we started.

“There are 27 bones in the human hand.” She tries again, softer this time. Taking a hard second to gather her words. “And I wanted to break every single one of Justin’s when he hugged me today.”

And _Oh._

_Oh!_

_Oh?_

_What?_

That both changes things and makes so little sense. Things had seemed…odd, but this was not what I had thought I would hear by way of explaining it. My brain is physically unable to comprehend, unable to find a rational reason behind the statement in juxtaposition to what I had seen. To what happened in front of my eyes.

“That’s very…specific?”

And I know she hears the question in my voice. The one that I’m asking and the one that I’m not.

She nods, quaintly. Shifts her shoulders slightly. Like she’s a little uncomfortable in her own skin. “There’s a lot to explain.”

“So, are you…not together then?” There’s a certain edge to my voice. I know it. Can’t help but to find it there despite my better efforts at containing it. And I haven’t even thought about the fact that I just revealed my thoughts unwittingly about what I was assuming about their relationship.

That I was believing in Alex’s assessment.

She smiles. Just a little thing. Glancing my way before she drops her head, tucks her chin close.  Perhaps a bit sadly.

“That’s a question Em. Not a confession” she teases lightly. Though she doesn’t really sound like she’s got her heart fully in it. And I want to tell her we’ve been asking questions in regard to things we’ve been talking about since we started. But I also know that what’s she’s doing now is avoiding.

_Buying time._

“That’s not—“ _Fair._ I want to finish. But it is. Fair that is. It’s the rules that we’d agreed to. That I wouldn’t have had to answer anything she’d asked me earlier.  And I should have expected that, like Alex, Kelley would know how to work a situation. “Okay. Well…”

And it’s funny how you can have a million things to tell a person that they don’t already know about you and still draw a blank. Not for lack of things to say, obviously, there are any number of things you could tell someone even if you’d known each other forever. But, rather, because nothing seems _important enough_ to warrant saying.

“I’ve never been on a date.” Her eyes shoot whip quick up to meet mine. Her incredulity pouring off in waves. I throw my hands up in defense. “I mean…like. Not a planned one. Like. I’ve done stuff. I’ve gone places. Just…not like a _date_ date.”

Her eyebrows are knit hard together. I can tell this is absolutely a piece of information she wasn’t expecting. (I didn’t think it would be that large a piece of information.)

“But like…what? How could someone not plan something with you? How could they just never make that happen? What’s wrong with people?”

And there are two thoughts that roll to the forefront.

Firstly, I notice her careful choice in words despite it being an instantaneous response. The way she begins playing the pronoun game with such ease that it seems second nature. Giving away a stream of her thought that I know I can latch onto. Reveals an uncertainty that she’s obviously been considering.

And secondly, I know, that no matter how serious any conversation is, that there’s always a little room to tease her.

“Why, I think that’s a question rather than a confession Kell.” And she’s frowning at the mocking tone I’m using. At the way my voice has mimicked her earlier mention. But not in any way that says she’s actually angry or bothered.

More that she wants to get her way and she knows I’m purposefully holding back.

“Such sass” she throws out as she twirls on the spot. Head spinning as she does to hold eye contact.

 “Right back ‘atcha.” And I’m pointing both hands, finger-gun style at her.

Keeping us on even footing when I just _know_ she wants the advantage.

She pulls up suddenly. Swaying slightly with presumed dizziness before plopping herself down on the concrete.

“Uh, Kell? There’s literally a bench right over there? What are you doing?”

“Too tired.” She’s whining, pouting up at me. Hands stretched out. Practically begging me to join her. And it reminds me, inexplicably, of a child on a sugar-crash.

And I wonder how we got here. How we’re having these two simultaneous conversations. The serious and the carefree.

“Whatever you say then. It’s still your turn.”

She chews at the inside corner of her lip while I crouch down. (I wonder which of the two has rubbed off on the other. Whether it’s originally Alex’s nervous tick, or Kelley’s.) And I’m trying for a little bit of grace (for once) as I seat myself directly across from her. Indian style. Waiting patiently, picking at a couple of pebbles on the ground near her left knee while she works through whatever is causing her anxiety.

“He started asking to get back together around the beginning of July.” She doesn’t start by providing any context, but I know exactly what she’s talking about. Am relating back to what little I know from Alex’s story on the situation. “We talked some. Or, I guess, he’d call and I’d let him talk. It was never easy, but I guess I just…couldn’t bring myself to cut him off completely. And he kept calling, even when I didn’t really have anything to say back. Which I guess is part of what I’d always liked. In the bad times he was stubborn, in the good times he was persistent.” She pauses, and I can only imagine that maybe she thinks the same thought that I do. _That perspective is everything_.

It isn’t until the moment that I watch her pull her knees up, wrap both arms around them and clasp her hands together though, that I know I’m about to get the real answers.

The way I watch her fold in on herself. Subconscious self-protection.

“He’d been trying to get me to let him visit since before we even started preseason. Normally, I was able to think of something that could get me out of that. Dinner with family. Soccer. You name it, I tried it. Then a few days before preseason I got some news.” She clears her throat before she continues. Breaking through whatever hesitation is building in her throat. “My dad was sick, and he hadn’t told us. Well, I mean…my mom knew, but like, my brother and sister and I got left in the dark. And there was Justin. Calling again. Just. Being there even when I didn’t want him to be. And for whatever issues we have, we also have a lot of history. And he was there when I needed someone.”

It’s absolutely not the story I had been expecting. In fact, I wouldn’t be far off from saying I’ve been rendered speechless, if only for a moment.

It’s a full scale revelation to know that the entire time that I’ve known her, she’s been going through something massive. (The specifics aren’t necessary. To hear her speak about it is to realize it’s serious.) So it’s hard to fathom what exactly I want to say next.

Because I care.  

Because there’s a part of me that aches to try and attempt to comfort her. But there’s another part that knows she’s not looking for anyone’s pity. Especially mine.

So I go with the only answer I know is appropriate and true.

“I’m here too.” And it’s quieter than I had intended. But it’s true and it’s real and I only hope she can see that.

She nods in a way that I think tells me she does. That I hope I haven’t misinterpreted.

 “Anyway—“ She continues on, almost in a bark, as though she’s more than eager to move past that piece of information. “—He came to visit first on the last day of preseason. That’s where I went instead of joining you all. We talked. It was…interesting. And then he let me know last night that he was coming to the game today. I spent most of the morning trying to get him not to but I was out of excuses for why he should stay home.”

She’s certainly given me an answer, however roundabout. But I’m still not sure If I’m just hard headed or if she hasn’t actually given me the answer I asked for.

“So you’re not together? Or you are?” It’s more direct this time. Less confused sounding.

“We’re not _not_ together.” She’s mumbling and I can’t decide what’s causing it. If it’s shame or if it’s guilt or if it’s something else I haven’t thought of.

“But like…what does that even mean? You’re either with someone or you aren’t.”

She turns her face away now, burying her chin into her shoulder. Staring at something I can’t see. (Which means she’s staring at nothing. Which means she’s gathering her thoughts and it’s only a matter of time.)

“It isn’t…always that simple Em.”

And I can’t help my immediate reaction. The cascade of thoughts that blink to life shouting:

_But it should be!_

_Being with someone should be one of those black and white areas in life!_

_You should know!_

And yet, not a single word pours out. Instead I find myself trying to sink into her shoes. Trying to understand before I start raving about how things should or shouldn’t work. Trying to envision whatever grey world she lives in.

And that’s when I see it.

That’s when I see that I’m asking the wrong question.

Because yes, he’s part of the equation, but in the grand scheme of what I really want to know, (what the burgeoning feeling in my chest is starting to ache for) he’s entirely irrelevant.

“…is there a reason that you aren’t…sure?

And I can tell the way her eyes begin to dance as she lifts her head just slightly, turning back to face me that she’s thinking carefully about her words. Can _just_ see the way her lids are fluttering in the lamplight. And it has me wondering what thoughts are firing through her. What has her so unsure.

“Let me think.” She finally says. Basically a whisper in the dark. “Tell me something first.”

And I know what she wants is the answer to her question. The same way that she’s at least begun to answer mine.

“ _Someone_ has wanted to take me before.” It’s easy to try to lighten the mood some. To throw just the hint of a smile back onto her face as I emphasize and play her pronoun game back to her. Broadcasting, in a subtle way what I think she knows is coming. “But, you know, with soccer it’s hard.”

“Allie said that you said you weren’t with anyone.” And that does bring an actual chuckle. An entirely unexpected one. That first car ride of twenty questions seeming like a lifetime ago.

“I’m not.” And I can’t seem to help the way we’re still waltzing around the words. The unintentional build up for what will inevitably follow. Playing coy at what she’s trying so hard to ask.

“So?”

And it’s just one word that has me finally taking mercy. Finally ready to throw out a couple of truths I couldn’t have imagined telling to anyone only a few weeks ago.

“She and I weren’t good for each other. We were young and we were dumb and the only adult thing we ever did was let each other go.”

Her face is equal parts readable and a mystery. She doesn’t bat an eye at the acknowledgement. She might even relax into it. A question answered.

“Allie owes me a pack of M&M’s” she murmurs out. (I’d known there was a bet! Though I certainly hadn’t pegged Kelley to be in on it.)

It’s a relief washing through me that I hadn’t known would happen. It had never consciously dawned on me that something like that would ever bother her, yet somewhere deep down it’s also a release to have it free.

And then she’s mulling over the second half of that sentence. Can tell by the way she’s picking at her thumb. Pulling on the skin as though it’ll ease some mental question she has. And I wonder if she thinks it’s some kind of veiled judgment about her situation. (It isn’t. Not intentionally anyways.)

“And you’re happy without her?”

It’s a soft spoken question that I’m not expecting. That has me reaching for the only response that seems to sum things up.

“Well I wasn’t happy with her.”

And that pulls her attention. Has her observing me with a new kind of curiosity.

“That’s—“ She starts and stops. Mouth shutting rapidly with a clack as her teeth rap against each other. Her eyebrows knit together and then release as she seems to struggle with something.

“And you? What’s so complicated for you?” And maybe the tone is different this time. Maybe the hour has just grown later (I have no idea what time it is but midnight has long since passed). Or maybe she’s just more comfortable.

But when she finally speaks this time, there’s a resignation to the facts in the tenor of her voice.

“In July, when he first asked, I wanted nothing to do with him. I was still angry. He…” She looks like she’s about to go into the story and I’ve nearly forgotten that she has no idea about the conversation I’d had with Alex earlier.

“I know what happened. We talked about it earlier. Briefly. Alex and I that is.”

She looks stern for a moment. The idea of Alex mentioning her personal business settling in before she nods and decides to continue on.

“Right…well. I was still angry. Like, he’d done stupid things before. Everyone does. And it’s not like we’re middle-aged and settled down with a house and four kids. I never expected pristine living. But that was too much. That was way more than I ever needed to hear. And it didn’t even come from him.”

She pauses to stand back up. Popping her fingers individually as she starts to pace.

“And then?”

She nods. Like she was just waiting for her cue to continue even though she’s the one calling all the shots here.

“And then August rolled around. And preseason started. And—“ Another pause. “And everything happened. And he wants to be together. And that has to matter for something.”

She sounds slightly exasperated. Maybe a bit like she’s trying to convince herself as much as she’s trying to convince me.

And I’ll admit that I’ve been struggling to keep track of all the ties to the conversation. To the way we’re threading in and out of subjects as she dances around the question. Around the answer.

It takes a moment to lift myself up off the ground. To stretch the cramped muscles in my legs.

Time she observes intently. (I can feel it in the hairs on the back of my neck.)

“Kelley.” She stops the pacing that has been incessant since she’s stood up. Choosing to gift me with her full attention.

“What?” Just another murmur across the space.

And it’s an invitation, I think, to ask the question again. To try, once more, for something other than this nonsensible tango around her answers.

“Kelley…I know what you’ve said—tonight I mean. I’ve heard all the reasons for why you want to be back with him.” _Want_ is a strong word. She’s really done nothing more glorified than say why she’d be _okay with it_ at best.

“But?” She supplies quietly across the space. Anticipating in a way I know makes her just as complicit.

“But, why don’t you?”

My bottom lip quivers with it. With the weight of the question behind the question.

And there it is.

A small tendril of my hope strung out on a line. Radiating with a swell in my chest.

A swell I think she feels. In the way the air seems to grow narrow around us. Heavy and charged. The way she’s looking at me.

“Obviously, what he did isn’t right.” And it’s disappointing to know that that’s the route she goes, but it doesn’t mean that I’ve given in.

I know there’s something there. Something resting just below the surface of our conversation.

“Anything else?”

And she looks hard at the ground. Chews at her lip before closing her eyes to take a deep breath.

Like she’s gauging how honest she wants to be.

“I think…” and she’s still looking down, but I can see the minute movements her head makes. The way she’s slowly trailing that gaze up. Finding me, for once, in the unabashed station of looking straight at her.

“I think there might be…someone else.”

There it is.

“I think there might be someone else I want to be with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA: You're all pretty wonderful. Keep letting me know what you think. Your thoughts are a major help! (Especially in making sure I get at least one chapter done a week)


	10. Finally, Finally.

There are only a few moments, I think, in a person’s life where everything seems to line up. Not the work of destiny, or fate, or magic, or anything quite like that. Nothing quite so otherworldly. More that there’s a bare moment in which all the pieces of our life seem to come together.  An instant in which the yoke of worry and anxiety and nerves that we carry beneath our skin and on our shoulders seems to fall away. A time where our world seems to slow for just a moment so that we can take the deepest, most pristine and cleansing breath; because for once, for one single infinitesimal moment everything seems to make sense. Everything seems to fall together exactly the way we’ve always hoped and dreamed and wished and wanted it to.

_“I think there might be…someone else.”_

So when it happens to me, it takes my heart leaping from my chest and into my throat to realize what exactly I’m hearing. The way the bones around my sternum seem to burst, to break free from the physical system of my body so that the muscle beneath can escape in an emotional getaway.

_“I think there might be someone else I want to be with.”_

It takes a single moment of her bravery for me to really, truly acknowledge that maybe, somewhere, deep down, this is exactly what I’ve been wanting to hear. That maybe I haven’t just been carrying around this growing flame around to wait for it to die away.  That maybe I’ve been wanting nothing more than to be able to kindle it. To let it burn. To let it live like the dancing flame in the small ring in Megan’s backyard.

But I had never thought that it would happen this way.

That I’d be hearing these words at a time like this. And more importantly the words beneath those words. The subtext hanging on the tenor of her tone, dangling there while the moon is just a sliver in the dark sky. The peak of twilight having come and gone. Dim stars shining constellations as bright as the words hanging in the space despite the light of the city that typically hides them. Constellations dusted on the cheeks of the most open and honest face I’ve ever seen. Her mouth still hanging open just slightly with the weight of what she’s just said.

And there’s a quiver in my lips as I try to control them long enough to even whisper the question that comes next. A shake as I try to get them to form a response. To pass the simple words across the empty concrete space between us.

To ask, _And who is that?_

To take the same leap she has, a moment of my own bravery, to ask the question her statement has already made abundantly clear.  To take her weighted and abstract declaration and pin it down. To rip open the sudden tension between us with a specificity.

Here’s the thing about moments like these though. About these rare and ethereal moments.

You can’t spend them wrangling in your fleeting heart. You can’t spend them trying to hold your splitting chest together. Can’t spend them trying so hard just to breathe through your disbelief. And you especially can’t spend them trying to conjure a wisp of newborn quivering bravery.

There’s simply not enough time.

These moments can slip so quickly between your fingers, like grains of sand, tumbling unceremoniously as they fall away. Impossible to hold.

And I’m sure you know what’s coming now. Know it just as I know, as Kelley’s eyes snap to attention, focusing hard on something just over my right shoulder. At the soft scuff of a shoe as it drags on the ground.

The way _our_ moment slips and falls away too.

And I know, _I just know_ it’s not a random passerby as those eyes lose their unyielding authentic honesty to harden into something caged and guarded.

Something I’m afraid looks a lot like running.

“Kel? Em? What are you doing out here so late?”

And there’s the soft rasp of a voice I hadn’t anticipated.

There’s Alex, wrapped in a plain t-shirt and pair of oversized sweatpants. Alex, in all her glory, hugging her arms to her chest, face soft and full of questions.

So very contrary to the Alex I’d seen emerge from the locker room.

“Um…” And there’s a stumble I don’t predict in Kelley’s speech. A stumble that silently confirms her nerves from our talk, not yet shaken away, and a lack of excusable reasoning to give to Alex.

And there’s no way that I can get the moment back now. Not with Alex’s interruption. Not with the unexpected intrusion that breaks what had seemed like our own personal world.

But there is one way I can at least try to tell her that everything between us is okay.

That at the very least I’m right here with her.

To please not run. Not from me.

“Alex. Hey…” And I didn’t realize how scratchy my own voice would sound as it tries to break away from me. The way I’d need my own subtle throat clear to wash away the heaviness of our previous conversation. “I just brought Kelley back from Pinoe’s house. She needed a ride and I was still up working on a paper so it wasn’t a problem. Figured I’d wait with her outside for a bit. She said she’d had a couple drinks. She tried to protest, but I didn’t want her to go stumbling in and wake you. I’m sure you know how she can be. Why aren’t you asleep?”

And it’s hard to know Kelley’s reaction to my given alibi, to my half-manufactured story when she’s behind me now, but it must induce at least a calm façade as Alex’s nervous eyes even out.

“Couldn’t sleep…I was honestly waiting for this one to get back.” There’s a pause. A pause where _I wanted to talk,_ might fit. ( _Talk_ rather than _apologize_ , because there’s little chance of those words coming from Alex’s mouth, regardless of whether that’s her intention.) “I just happened to see you two out the window when I got up for the bathroom.”

“Sorry Al. We just lost track of time. Since you’re already up there’s no need to worry now. I’ll just walk back with you.” Her voice doesn’t hold the regretful tone that it should though. Is far too even to mimic a true apology.

And yet, somehow, just like that everything seems settled. Seems accepted. Alex’s tired eyes blinking away any sense she might have of disbelief. Too ready in an painfully obvious way as her arms wrap tighter still around her to retreat back to her room.

And it’s only then that I can safely take a step and make the pivot. To catch whatever I might be able to find writ in the lines of Kelley’s face.

I find so very little there though. She’s unreadable as she takes a few steps to stand next to Alex. Has had all the time since Alex first approached to hide away whatever was once written there.

Though, maybe, for just a moment her gaze lingers. Lingers in a way that says something I know I need to hear.

“Thanks again Em. Next time I’ll just have to invite you along. Get your nose out of those books when you should be celebrating a win.”

I nod. The only appropriate response. And smile a smile I don’t really feel. Because If I’m celebrating our next win, I don’t want to be spending it at a house party, _I want to be spending it with her._ But there’s nothing to be done about it now as we’re separating.

“Thanks for getting her home safe Em. And get that paper done. Good night.”

And like that, Alex takes the final word as they start to walk away. As Alex leans, a little more than I think she realizes in the direction of Kelley. Leans a little unwittingly into the apology she’ll end up giving (without the words), for her outright reaction (but not for her reasons).

And I’m headed back to Wick. To the room where I hope my own roommate has given up on her own paper quest. Head swimming with the night and the moment we lost. Trying desperately to shutter the voice that whispers, dauntingly, accusingly, _you shouldn’t have hesitated._

It’s not my indomitable will or self-control that quiets the noise though. That will let me have at least a few hours of merciful sleep. It’s the quick vibration of my phone that ends up silencing the voice.

               _Goodnight Em._

It’s Kelley’s words. Snuck across the wire. Just enough to say: _I’m still here._  

\-------------------------------------------------

“I swear if the WiFi in here kicks me off the network one more time, I’m getting you to write them a strongly worded letter for me.”

Lindsey’s lounged in a sofa chair sideways, back leaning on one arm, legs dangling over the other as she rests her tablet on her legs. She’s been trying to catch up on some Netflix while Sam and I have been doing actual work.

We’re all taking advantage of the day off given to us. Without practice in the way, we can blow through the rest of our library hours in one sitting.

And I’m taking advantage of them. Of their energy after a restless night of sleep. Of their presence to stay distracted. (As much as is possible anyway.)

“You’re going to make _me_ write them a letter for _you_?”

She smirks across the space.

“You’re the one with better words. And besides! They actually like you. They’ll listen. I on the other hand have already been thrown out of here once.”

I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Well maybe you and Allie shouldn’t have dropped an airfield worth of paper planes from the third floor. Like. Did you really think the bomber run was going to go unnoticed?”

She laughs and grins. Obviously still pleased with herself.

“It was worth it. I mean, did you see Moe’s face? Golden I tell you. Golden.”

And I can’t help but return the laugh. Because whether or not I’m encouraging her, it was in fact pretty funny.

Setting my books aside, (I’ve read the same paragraph probably four times without remembering any of it) I take the time to stand and stretch. We’ve been here for hours and my legs have been cramping for the last 20 minutes.

“Walk with me to a grab a coffee? I need a break.”

She spins easily in her chair. Sitting up as she does and setting her tablet on top of my books.

She sighs in overdramatic fashion.

“Might as well. Can’t get this to work anyways.” She taps on Sam’s shoulder till she removes one side of her headphones and looks up expectantly. “Grabbing coffee? Wanna come with?”

She huffs but refrains from actually pouting. “Can’t. I’m taking a quiz for Poli Sci. It’s timed. Dumb.”

Lindsey nods in a way that might be sympathetic. (Or that might be realizing she can use her circumstances to her advantage.)

“Watch our stuff while we’re gone?”

“Sure. Sure. Just leave all your earthly possessions and valuables with me. I’ll be sure no one steals them cause they’ll be mine first.”  But she says it with a grin and a kind nod. Practically shooing us off as she slips her headphone back on.

We don’t speak again until we’re emerging through the glass double doors back out into the heat of campus.

“So, what are Tobin, Alex, and Kelley up to?” And I’d be a liar if I said I don’t hear just the smallest note of jealousy in her probing question. Jealousy despite the fact that this is Lindsey of all people. One of the two people besides The Trio who I’ve spent my time with regularly since the first day of preseason.

“They’re busy with something. I don’t know. I didn’t ask. Why?” And that’s only a partial lie. They are busy and I didn’t ask. But that’s only because I already knew where they’d be. They’d all decided to spend the day off campus at the mall and at the zoo. My assumption is that Kelley and Alex needed a neutral ground to work out their issues and Tobin got stuck with the unwanted but absolutely necessary position of babysitting middleman.

Alex said I needed to get my paper done or I would have been invited to go with them.

I’d wanted to facepalm at the thought of missing out on the elephants at the zoo over a white lie, but went along with it nonetheless. Certainly, they needed their time and I was more than happy to acquiesce and let them have it.

And (thinking about the time spent today with Lindsey and with Sam) maybe find someone I trusted that I could talk to in the meantime. To get an outside perspective on the _something_ that’s been eating my brain cells alive.

“Just figured you’d be with them today rather than in the library with us.”

I roll my eyes at her. We both know what she’s saying.

“You’re more than welcome to keep coming to take naps in my room if you’re feeling left out. I’m sure my roommate would be alright with it. I mean, she’s already making deals with Kelley in exchange for alcohol.”

She snorts and grins back at me.

“Well maybe I don’t feel like cuddling. Your twin is too small.”

I drop my jaw in mock indignation.

“I’m like a Grade A Cuddler. If you’d only be so lucky as to have the opportunity.”

She laughs lightly. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say Sonny.”

We make a right to head down another path. We both agree it’s worth the extra walk to grab a coffee from the tiny corner place just off campus than to go and grab what’s available on the meal plan in the student union.

I spend the extra distance trying to untangle the knot of words in my throat as I realize this is the time I’ve been waiting for if I want to talk to her. To get this weight off my chest. Am trying to decide what route I want this conversation avenue to take as we hit the crosswalk at exactly the right time to catch the light and make our way across into the simple white and blue brick coffee shop.

I’m shifting foot to foot as she orders first. (It’s both of us ordering the usual. No thought required.) I’m not sure how noticeable my nerves are, but I know I certainly can’t hide the fidgeting.

She snags a corner table in the back with a face of victory. Actual semi-privacy.

“So….” I’m digging my hands into the pockets of my sweats as I sit down to try and hide the way my fingers are tapping at my sides. She turns her head curiously and I know I’ve been busted. I’m honestly surprised it’s taken so long.

“Out with it, Em. No point beating around the bush.”

It’s not unkind. I’m just always surprised at her forwardness. At the way she thinks about doubt as a waste of time better spent in action.

“Right. Well then.” I can feel my forehead scrunching as I’m still trying to figure out what to say. Half procrastinating by thinking about what that particular wrinkle is going to look like when I’m 80. “I, uh, I maybe need your advice?”

She props her hands on the tabletop and folds them. Looking practically giddy.

“Oh? You want my advice? Well now this is a first. Please. Do tell me what services I can render.”

She’s smug and grinning. But I can’t help but think seriously on this. Can’t quite get my face to match her brightness knowing that what I have to say is important.

“Okay. I have a problem. Well, not a problem, more of an issue. Maybe not an issue? A situation. I don’t want to describe it that way either. I’m botching this horribly.”

She chuckles softly over the fumbling of my words. Obviously marvelously impressed by the person whom she’d thought to have write a strongly worded letter to the administration earlier.

“ORDER FOR…HORAN? AND AN ORDER FOR SONNETT?”

She holds up a finger, excuses herself to grab our orders. Presumably, thankfully, also giving me time to try and figure out how to stop screwing up my ability to use the English language.

I’m drumming my fingers against the tabletop when she drops back into her chair and slides my order across the table. Nodding as she takes a sip of her own that I can continue now.

I take a breath, in and out, attempting to calm my nerves before trying again.

“I need to tell you something. Like, I need to talk to someone about this.”

“Wait—“ She interrupts. “Just…are you failing your classes already? Are you pregnant? Have you made a premature decision to transfer schools? Are you dying? These are the worst situations and I need to be prepared.”

“Uh, No? Not possible? Not leaving? And not that I’m aware of?” She nods, apparently pleased, as though her outburst was entirely rational and now she can rest easy as a listener. “Right…as I was saying…Alright. Okay. Let’s just throw it out there. That might be for the best. I think that I might like someone.”

Her eyes narrow slightly and she leans forward in her seat. “Who?” She looks downright conspiratorial.

“I’d rather not say—”

“So I know them?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Lindsey.”

“Right. Fine. Okay. Your way. So maybe you like _someone_. Why is this a big deal?”

I slump a little around the cup in front of me as I take a drink and set it back down. A little perturbed by how unaccording to my non-plan this has been going.

“Who said anything about it being a big deal?”

She sighs as though the answer is obvious. (It is. I know it. But I can’t help the futile attempt.)

“Alright…look Em.” I’ve never been terrified of her serious face, but I definitely am right now. Of the way it’s portraying that she’s about to lay things out whether I like them or not. “You said you needed advice. Which means it’s a big deal. Even if it’s only a big deal to you. Which makes it a big deal to me. And I’ll help you if I can, but you’re being weird. So I’m just going to save us a lot of time and call it like I see it. Then we’ll move on from there. You like someone I know. You’re telling me instead of one of the three amigos. Tobin wouldn’t care, so that doesn’t mean anything. But Alex and Kelley definitely would. And you’ve spent a lot of time with them. So if you’re not telling them, and are telling me instead, it means you don’t want them know. Which…from the only logic I can come up with means it’s about one of them.”

She takes a moment to breathe while what she’s said settles in. While I can’t help but narrow my eyes at her rather than immediately refute her statements. Drowning in the actual validity and correctness in her claims.

“Also. Allie already told me this morning that you showed up last night at Pinoe’s to drive Kelley home. And Kelley asked her for an alibi that had her leaving a lot later than she actually did if Alex decided to ask. Which, if I’m getting my facts right, means she spent time with you last night that she’d rather go unaccounted for. Which brings me back to my earlier point. Either Kelley or Alex. And let’s just for the sake of argument take the easier path. You and I can both do the simple math here. You like Kelley. If I’m wrong, you can correct me. But I’m not wrong, so please don’t.”

I swear my jaw is on the floor. Broken at the hinge. I’m not sure I even have proper words to describe what exactly this level of surprise feels like even if I had the ability to form them.

“How did you--?”

She chuckles again. Serious face breaking momentarily. “Sorry. I’ve been watching a lot of Law and Order SVU lately, was that too much?” As though that explains things. As though that’s reason enough for her to have figured everything out. To have exposed the confused masterpiece of my thoughts in such an easy, casual way.

But I don’t want to lie to her. Especially when I was already asking for her help. So, I collect my jaw and set it back into place. Fully intent on actually being able to form coherent sentences.

“Okay then…” It’s just above a whisper. These hard to form conciliatory words. “Yeah. You’re not wrong.”

She smiles then. Soft and maybe a little bit goofy. “Well see. That wasn’t so hard. Allie’s going to hate it when she loses her bet though.”

“Allie bet on me liking Kelley?”

She laughs loudly at that one. Causing a few other heads around the room to turn as abruptly as my cheeks do with the way they flare red.

“No Em. Nobody’s saying anything about you and Kelley. Which, honestly, I think is pretty dumb. This whatever you’ve got happening hasn’t exactly been a behind closed doors secret. But Allie bet on you being straight. She’s blind sometimes.”

And I’m not sure what to make of what she’s saying. Of how exactly to take this particular outside perspective.

“Maybe I should have talked to Sam instead.”

Lindsey just smiles.

“Nah. You know I’m here for you Sonny. Now, what’s the actual problem. Since we both know Kelley being a girl isn’t an issue for you. So what is?”

That’s the million dollar question.

“Yeah. No, that’s not an issue. Not for me.” Another quiet concession. Another breath. Another second to try and root myself in morality. “The problem is, she’s not exactly available.”

She frowns. Let’s a soft hum escape as she thinks.

“What do you mean _not exactly_? She has a boyfriend? That guy that was with her at the game?”

I’m nodding before I realize I need to clarify. That she’s actually asked me a question.

“She said they’re not _not_ together. Which means they kind of are, but that they kind of aren’t? So basically, I don’t know.”

She taps at the table with both index fingers as she sits back in her chair and thinks. I can see the way she’s filtering the information. Can see it in the growing scrunch of her eyebrows.

“Okay…Well. I think…no. No I can’t say that. I honestly can’t give you the advice that you’re looking for here. I know that a lot of other people would tell you to _do the right thing_ or whatever. But I don’t even know what that is half the time. I think that this is something you’re going to need to figure out with her. I mean, I know what I would do and what I could live with. But you’re the only one that has to live with your conscious. Find a way to make yourself happy and whatever you choose, I’ll still be here for you at the end of the day. No matter what.”

It’s easy to fill in the gaps. It’s easy to know what Lindsey is saying about what she would do. About the moral high ground of leaving this alone. But it’s also telling. Telling in the way she doesn’t fill them in. About the outs she’s giving as well. Something in her that notes that we don’t always take the high ground in situations.

_Anything that I could live with._

And I think, at this point, there’s no shortage of things I could do without collapsing under the weight of guilt. Maybe without feeling any guilt at all.

“Thanks Linds. I needed that.”

And I did. Whether it was permission, or acknowledgment, or something else entirely. It feels good to have the weight lifted, even momentarily from my chest. No matter what other complications they may bring with them. It feels good to have them out there, breathing. Not locked up tight within the space of my mind.

She smiles again. Kindly. Like she knows exactly what I intend without a single word thrown across the space. Like she gets it without an reservations.

“Of course. Now, we should probably get back to Sam. Think we should bring her something back?”

\-------------------------------------------

I just want to be clear about something here. I just want to make sure we’re on the same page when it comes to my reality. Your expectations versus my real actions. If you thought we’d leave the coffee shop and I’d go dashing off bravely to find her:

You’re wrong.

If you thought that I’d end up texting her, calling her, or _writing her a strongly worded letter_ to say everything that’s been on my mind _:_

_You’re wrong._

If you thought whole days would not have passed including another weekend home victory, endlessly cycling through what exactly I want to say and how I could get her alone to say them:

_You’re still wrong._

Because here I am, on a Tuesday night and I am still lying in my bed, agonizing over it.

Half of that is my fault, of course. I have every ability to talk to her. I know she’s there, waiting on the other end of the line if I could just work myself into the brave state of just telling her. But that leaves half that is not my fault. Half where Alex has been hovering like hawk. Half where Kelley spent the remaining portion of her weekend off-campus. And it doesn’t take much to gather an educated guess at where she would have been. At who she would have been with.

It’s what makes it such a surprise when I’m jolted from my self-imposed suffering by an incoming text. It’s what causes my heart to leap straight through my chest in hammering anticipation before I realize it’s only Alex. That the group chat between the four of us has sprung alive unexpectedly. _And trust me, I know I have a problem._

_‘Sonny. We’re having a movie night. You like HP right? You’re invited.’_

And I do. I actually really do. And I’ve missed them. The past few days have been tinged by their absence in my life. A hole created as they’ve been trying to sort out their own issues.

_‘What she means is we haven’t seen you as much lately. We miss you. So you’re coming.’_

And that would be Tobin. And I swear her words do just as much to ease my apprehension as anything else. Potentially more. Until there’s another vibration. Another message that stands waiting. A message I would hazard a guess holds far more weight to me than it was ever intended to have.

_‘Don’t let them boss you around. Would you like to come?  You can always say no.’_

Kelley. The voice of reason in this instance. The surprising adult. And I can just imagine them now. All sitting in one room. Shooting side eyes across the space at one another as this conversation plays out in real-time across campus. Alternating between bickering and laughing over who has the last word.

               ‘ _Bring snacks.’_

It’s Alex. It’s always Alex. With her insatiable appetite that literally never seems to ever go anywhere. A physical impossibility made manifest.

And despite the myriad of emotions, of course I choose to go. Because as much apprehension as I have, as much terror and cowardice over being unable to form the words I need to say, over the growing spinelessness as the days have progressed, I have more desire to see them. More desire to see her.

And Harry Potter is a pretty damn good excuse.

               ‘ _I’ll see what I can find. Be there in a minute. :)’_

And it only takes about that long to slip on shoes and grab the Chex Mix I’ve been hoarding for a rainy day. Leaving a simple note on the white board my roommate has pegged to our door letting her know that I’ll be gone.

_‘Tobs is outside waiting for the pizza we ordered. She’s got instructions not to let you in if you’re empty handed though!’_

It’s easy to laugh when they’re like this. It’s easy to lose track of how quickly campus passes by under my feet when they’re being such children. To where Tobin is in fact waiting out front, sitting on the ledge of a short brick wall, kicking her feet softly against it. Looking like a bored four year old until she notices me.

“Sonny! I see you brought the goods!” She’s all energy and smiles. Hands shooting out to point at me in greeting as I’m walking up.

“The one and only.” And I’m taking a bow, chuckling back at her, hefting the Chex Mix her way.

She catches it midair and tucks it in her arms before she takes a critical eye for just a moment as she hops back to her feet.

“You got the memo on it being Harry Potter night right? Please tell me you realized you’re wearing green. And please explain what you have to say for yourself.”

It’s such an unexpected critique from her that I can’t help but go along with the absurdity.

“Tobin. I hate to break it to you this way…” And I can’t help but to move closer. Conspiratorially. “…But I’m a Slytherin all the way. Me and mine over you and yours.”

She looks mock offended. Hand overdramatically held over her heart.

“You heathen.” It’s funnier when she says it like that. Like she’s some 1940’s Southern Belle.

“The only heathen here is you Heath. You’re a straight up Hufflepuff.” And I’m pulling the trigger on a mock-finger pistol. Blowing away the non-existent smoke as she laughs in artificial offense.

“At least you can’t fault me for working hard!” She raises an eyebrow as though I might challenge her.

“Work smarter, not harder Tobs.” She just grins and holds up a hand to shush me.

“Hold that thought! Pizza’s here!” And she’s taking off. Running ridiculously with awkwardly flailing arms across the green towards where a lit up car is in the process of parking. Taking all of five minutes before she’s jogging back, looking smug and victorious; two boxes held in hand, bag under arm, a slice of pizza hanging from her teeth. “Haph ta gert the beth pieth before Al duth”

She’s quick to read my upraised eyebrow, the silent commentary about her propensity for talking with her mouth full, and just nods towards the door which she opens with her one available hand as she balances the boxes against her chest.

She snatches the pizza free from her mouth once we’re inside and walking down the hall.

“Gotta get the best piece before Alex does!” And then she’s grinning again. Taking another bite as we round the corner into the open room door of 124.

“I could smell you coming down the hall beautiful.” Alex is jumping up off her bed to reach out for the boxes in Tobin’s hands before she sits herself back down again.

“Aw. Is that how you really feel Al?” Tobin (thankfully) has chewed and swallowed before she replies. Smirking at Alex who’s eyes narrow before they roll.

“The pizza Tobs. You know I’ve got a boy who keeps me satisfied.” She just flashes a grin as Tobin fakes nauseated vomiting. “Em. Glad you could come. I see you’ve brought the appropriate entry fee. Take a seat anywhere. We’re starting with the second movie because _someone_ lost my first movie DVD at an away game.”

She’s glaring critically at Tobin who just shrugs but does actually look mildly sheepish as she launches herself backwards to land on Alex’s bed.

Which leaves me in the middle of the room. Looking awkwardly for where I want to sit. Knowing the only logical place, but searching anyways. Alex’s bed more than full with both she and Tobin and pizza (a veritable third companion). The floor, with its cold linoleum not looking appetizing, especially as they’re running their A/C full blast. Both desk chairs strewn full of practice gear and clothing.

And then there’s Kelley. Looking up from where she’s been silently observing the entire exchange. Swaddled under a blanket as she sits indian-style in her bed. Face a curious blend of interest and invitation and challenge.

“Grab us one of those boxes?”

And she breaks my awkward indecision. Takes pity or mercy and helps my rooted feet to move.

“Oh! Oh!” Alex is suddenly piping up from where she’s currently getting herself equally snuggled in. “Get the lights too!”

“Of course your majesty, anything else I can help you with?” And maybe I can’t help just the slight snark, but the entire room is grinning at the exchange.

“Well since you mentioned it…” And Tobin starts to chuckle under her breath as Alex begins to speak. Something that seems to say something a lot like _never offer even in jest._ “Wanna grab me a Gatorade from the fridge while you’re up?”

And I do. With a hard roll of my eyes. Grabbing her a Gatorade and flipping it across the room where she catches it easily. Flicking the lights off with a flourish and a huff, as though it’s actually pained me to help with such a minor menial task. Snatching the bottom box of pizza (the full one) from Alex’s bed and then creeping, with a sudden gingerness, to sit upright and awkward, legs out straight in Kelley’s bed. Box between us.

Alex is starting the movie without another moment of pause, but I’m having a hard time focusing. Having a much more difficult time trying to figure out what to do with my hands. With my body that feels like it’s been frozen rigid.

And I know, more than ever, that I need to have this conversation. That I can’t put this off any longer. As I can feel her subtly eyeing me through the dark. Gauging where my tension is coming from. I’m realizing that we’ve finally gotten to the point where holding it in feels more mortifying than what may come from letting it out.

It’s at least fifteen minutes of inner debate later and I’m starting to feel like my shoulder has a cramp from sitting so still that she nudges me. Holds a piece of pizza that I’ve been too nervous to reach for in my direction. Offers it with the smallest of smiles outlined in the glow off the TV.

More important than the food though (for once) is the gesture. Is the way it feels like I’m being offered the ability to breathe again. And I can’t help but to accept it with the same quiet smile that she’s delivered it with. Taking a bite that seems to release my own inner tension.

A silent exchange I’m grateful for as I pull my own legs in. To tuck them in a way that’s finally comfortable. That has just the edges of our knees touching.

_And I’d swear she seems to relax just as much as I do._

She offers over the edge of her blanket, tucking us both securely inside it. While it’s really a kind gesture, something Alex and Tobin have already accomplished some time ago, I can’t help but notice the way it hides our minute level of connection.

_And I’d swear, as the minutes roll by, that it feels like she leans into it, into the smallest touch of our knees. I’m so focused on it that I don’t remember half the movie._

\------------------------------------------------------------

Tobin might be the first one to fade, slumping towards the middle of _The Prisoner of Azkaban_ before bailing out entirely to sleep in her own bed across the hall, but I’m embarrassingly the next. After days spent with an overactive brain, all I feel now is calm. Is release. Despite the fact that nothing has really changed.

Slouched back into the wall, chin tucked against my shoulder. Creating one painful inevitable neck kink. One moment watching the fictional struggle on the screen, the next lifting heavy tired eyes into the dark silence. Waking up to the most gentle prodding at my shoulder.

Alex is snoring softly into her pillow across the room.

I have no idea what time it is but the TV’s been off for awhile. Can tell by the way it’s lost the residual glow they usually have.

None of that matters though. Not nearly so much as the way Kelley’s face has been dimly lit by the screen of her phone. The way she’s holding a single finger up to lips. Silently signaling for me to remain quiet.

It’s hard to process information, my brain not quite as willing to wake as the rest of my body, but when she signals me to follow, I don’t hesitate to nod. She’s standing, leading with light steps through the open door of the bathroom. And I’d question the strangeness of this if I hadn’t already been told to remain quiet. Would question the way she gently opens the unlocked door on the other side, flinching slightly as the hinge creaks.

Leads the both of us through the other side into her suitemate’s room before shutting the door back behind us. Takes a quiet seat on the floor, perched on the plush area rug before looking back up at me expectantly, tapping the floor directly in front of her. An invitation.

I can’t help but to oblige. Find myself nestling in just as close as we’d been sitting earlier.

Closer.

Facing her directly as both of our knees press softly against each other.

And I can’t help the full body shiver that wracks through me. Can’t decide if it’s the sudden coldness, out of bed and newly woken, or if it’s something else entirely.

She just stares with half-guarded but soft eyes. The corners of them tugging up to match her lips when she feels the way I shake.

“Our suitemates don’t really live here much. They just use it as a place to keep their stuff.” She’s whispering. Breaking the silence. Causing me to realize how strange it is to feel like the only thing I can place is the sound of our breathing, just slightly out of time.

I don’t have a response. Still functioning a little slowly. Only have the presence of mind to cock my head sideways. A nonverbal question. A ‘ _What are we doing?’_

And I think she gets that, despite the darkness. The only light filtering in from a streetlight outside and the moon.

“We need to talk Em.” And this is a different kind of low tone. One that says, _talk means you need to listen,_ so I make no moves to interrupt. “I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know what I’m doing. It’s terrifying and I feel like I’m making all the wrong choices. We didn’t get to finish our conversation last time, but considering how things have gone on, I think you know exactly what I was trying to say. Like, I thought it was one thing that night, and everything was good, but then you just disappeared. So I get it. And it’s…it’s fine. Alright? It’s okay that it’s not okay. I can handle that. But I just don’t want things to be weird between us. I don’t want to not have you around because I said something stupid. I don’t want you to feel like we can’t be close because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. So just tell me how to fix this. Tell me and I’ll do it.”

When people say they feel their heart break for someone, that’s what I imagine this feels like. But it’s hard to feel that ache when I’ve got so much guilt to feel now. So much guilt for making her have to be the brave one again. For hearing all the things I never meant for her to think.

Because she’s wrong.

She’s so wrong.

And she’s looking so expectantly, so openly, that I feel like anything I’d have to say would break this precarious moment. That it wouldn’t be enough to make up for what I’ve inadvertently done with my indecision. With my gutless waiting.

I’m the one who needs to fix this. I’m the one that needs to correct her with the truth of things.

And it’s now or it’s never.

Somehow, like a magician, she’s managed to conjure up just one more fleeting moment. One more chance that I have to take.

This time, though, I’ve learned my lesson. I know that I can’t spend this passing time with my coward heart. I can’t bolster my splitting chest when she’s broken hers open to lay before me. That if I can’t quite breathe here there’s a reason. That I can’t spend time conjuring bravery, I simply need to let the words tumble, as broken and imperfect as they are from lips that quiver if that’s what it takes to seize this moment.

So, slowly, ever so slowly I’m starting to shake my head. To hope in the darkness she can see what I’m trying to convey. 

“That’s not…that’s not what I meant at all.” And it’s hard to speak. It’s hard to break the hush left after she’s gone quiet. “You’re right. We didn’t have the chance to finish. I didn’t have the chance to respond.”

It’s hard to force my rebelling mouth to obey. Hard to force it to cooperate while she sits, quietly, face changed into an unreadable mask. Looking very much like she’s trying to contain what might be processing underneath.

“But I shouldn’t have disappeared. I should have said exactly what you needed to hear.” I can hear her breathing catch as she listens, though. As she starts to process what I’m saying. “Because there’s nothing you need to fix Kel. You didn’t say anything wrong. You didn’t say anything that I didn’t want to hear…I’m just an idiot because I couldn’t find a way to tell you earlier.”

And I wonder if she can tell the way my teeth want to rattle. The way me bones are trying to shake in their sockets. Each hushed and whispered word a shockwave through my nervous system. If she can feel the reverberations through my knees while I’m finally spilling the truth through my own words.

“I know that things are…complicated.” I take one last deep breath. Try to settle the shaking in my fingertips. Force my lips to form the words I know I need to say. “But… _I think there might be someone I want to be with too.”_

Sending her words back to her.

Such strange and foreign words to come from my mouth. Falling openly across the strange and foreign space of this room. Settling into this strange and foreign silence.

But I’m not afraid anymore.

And I can feel the shift of things in the air. Can feel it in the heaviness of her breath in front of me. Can feel it in the way she reaches out so gently. Takes my right hand with hers. The warmth of her skin evident despite the over-chilled air within the space. Can feel it as she traces one finger delicately along the crease in my palm.

In the way she creates an electric powerline with our hands.

Our breathing shakily in time as we both feel the pulse and echo of our hope and fear. As we both realize what these words we’re saying mean.

“Is this okay?” She finally asks. Finally breaks her silence. Whispered words uneven and nervous. Just as hesitant as mine. But also just as willing.

I nod. Just a soft hum in response.

“And this is okay?” She trails that same hand down my forearm. Silently finding a way to mimic the action with the other. I can feel her leaning forward to achieve it from her position.

And here’s the thing: I know that there are so many things that I should be thinking about right now. That I should be decided on what consequences I can live with. That we should talk. _Really talk_. That he’s still a very present concern. And that Alex who’s just two walls away, less than 15 steps, would undoubtedly have something to say about this. But instead of thinking those very real thoughts, I’m empty of them. Unable or unwilling to think them.

I nod again. A slightly more pronounced hum that staves off the silence. 

“And this?” She’s leaning forward now, hands trailing higher, elbow to bicep to shoulder. Rising to rest on her knees now. Looking down at me as her face is now shaded entirely in the dark. The angle changing the way the light from outside plays off of her.

“Yeah.” And it’s just a murmur in the dark. Barely even qualified as a word as I find difficulty in breathing over the swelling in my chest.

“You’re sure?” She asks. Fingertips dancing hesitantly along the skin of my shoulders. Over the bunched fabric of my cutoff. Landing, ever so softly along base of my neck.

“I’m sure.” And I’m not sure how I even have words left to speak, because I definitely can’t breathe now. Not with what’s finally clicking in my brain. The way I've never been more sure despite knowing exactly what's happening now. My pulse pounding heavy under her thumbs.

And she just nods. Leans again. Further this time. And I’m not sure if she realizes how slowly she’s moving but I have to believe she’s still giving me every opportunity to change my mind as one hand slips deftly to cradle behind my ear. The other slipping back down to rest securely on my shoulder.

An anchor point.

A point that keeps me fixed in place as the tip of her nose finds mine.

And I think she’ll always be the braver one. The magic one. The conjurer of moments in the most unexpected places at the most unexpected times. But in this moment (the one that she’s created out of nothing), I need to breathe. I need to breathe like I’ve never tasted air in my life. And with her here, with her breathing soft uneven puffs against my cheek so close that I can feel them, my lungs are an iron cage begging for release.

So when I say it doesn’t take another moment to stop hesitating; I finally mean it.

I finally take the chance. The leap. The dive.

Decide against the dark and loud silence that this is something I can live with.

I finally take my moment of bravery.

To press forward to close that last bit of space. To meet her.

To finally _, finally_ , land lips against lips, to have my palms against her hips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have much to say this week friends. How do you feel? Was it worth the wait?


	11. complicated never felt so simple

Morning brings the sound of birds. Tiny birds with their tiny calls. Each flitting from branch to branch in the tree outside the window of my dorm room in the soft haze of the pre-dawn sunrise. Outside the window that I’ve been staring at for the last hour. Or maybe staring _through._

Maybe seeing everything. Or maybe seeing nothing at all.

So wrapped inside myself, inside the push and the pull of air inside my lungs, that I haven’t even noticed the time ticking away. So distracted in the way it feels to _finally_ breathe to have noticed the way the horizon line has started to paint itself with brushstrokes of the softest pinks and purples. The first lines of morning peaking their way out above the multi-story buildings that are trying so hard to hide it away.

I’m so lost inside my head, so lost inside everything still taking place there, that it takes the first musical notes of my morning alarm to pull me from my reverie. To rip me from my daydreams… _wait, no._ Not daydreams. Something so much better and so much more terrifying than daydreams. To rip me from my memories.

It takes the first instance of music to send me into a slaphappy race to turn it off. To pounce back into action. To make me realize two things in quick succession.

One. We’ve got morning training before class today.  
Two. I’m awake even before my alarm has gone off.

I’m so awake that my brain is firing on full cylinders prior to breakfast in a way that is obtuse and foreign. And that is literally because it hasn’t shut itself down yet. Literally because _I have not slept_. Not a single ounce of rest beyond the neck-kink inducing nap that left me disoriented and momentarily confused. That rose out of Harry Potter movie night with the Triad. Nothing since I-don’t-even-know-what-time-but-it-was- _early_. Or late. I’m not sure how you look at clocks and time and perspective.

Here’s the kicker though. Here’s the part of this that I’m sure you’ll care about. Here’s the infinitely better part of all of this.

_I Don’t Care._

The sun has begun to rise again, to pour itself back over our little section of the world, and I don’t care. Because here I am practically throwing myself from bed with an energy that has no place in this circumstance. Here I am slipping quietly into training gear, grabbing my Gatorade bottle and my keys. Here I am sliding outside my door and down the hall to wait in the stairwell for both Lindsey and Sam to make their way down as my own roommate remains, a softly snoring drooling lump in her bed, and I remain unjealous.

Because the night held something far better than sleep. The night held something far more desirable than the wishes and dreams that sleep provides.

And I am still living them. Unable to pull myself out of the seismic afterglow as I wait. I am still lost and living in the aftershocks of last night.

\-----------------------------------------------------

_I’d been shaking all night._

_Tiny tremors since I found myself guided from Kelley’s bed. Since we trespassed in the middle of the night into a room that didn’t belong to either of us. Since we crossed the dark space filled only with the faint sounds of Alex’s gentle snores and the midnight quiet. Since we ended up with our knees pressed together on the cold floor of someone else’s room._

_My bones rattled softly in their sockets with each whispered word of our confessions._

_Feeling overly exposed and vulnerable as her fingertips skimmed along the surface of my skin. A Richter scale could have recorded the quakes that sprang to life beneath them. A confrontation of emotion welling up to grind at the plates of my frame in its attempt to get out at even her slightest pressures._

_So, when I took the leap to meet her, to finally close all that unnecessary distance, to finally connect her lips with mine, I suppose that I had figured what I would get would be a release. That after this uncalled for game of emotional tag, after we’d both flung secrets out into the space between us, what we’d get would finally be this moment of sublime perfection._

But that isn’t what I got.

What _we_ got.

_What I got is better and what I got is worse. And it’s all so perfectly, perfectly representative of my life._

_Because here’s the thing about bravery. (The kind that I had to summon.) Here’s the thing about indulging in it._

_It’s all a bit reckless, a bit chaotic. An imperfect force without a competent guide._

I think we all know by now, I’m anything but competent.

_So when we actually met, two small figures pressing against each other for the first time in the middle of the dark, it’s awkward and it’s glancing. Which, honestly, doesn’t make a lot of sense and I’m not sure how it happened. There was so very little distance between us that I had to travel. So very little room for error in a moment quite like that._

_But there’s a lot to be said about how nervous I was._

_And maybe my brain wasn’t quite a fine-tuned machine in that moment. Perhaps I may have misjudged the amount of force I needed to rise up from the floor. To rise from sitting cross-legged to meet her where she’d risen._

_Maybe, it’s anything but_ sublime perfection. _Catching just the corner of her mouth in my rush. Catching her, just a bit unprepared. Propelling her backwards with the force behind my moment of bravery. My courage. My insanity._

_It was mortifying._

_We fell. Just like that._

_Like some crystal vase falling to shatter on the floor at its first showing._

_But rather than letting us smash into a thousand beautiful broken shards on the floor, she caught us. Body reacting on some instinctual level I didn’t know how to match. Knowing exactly what to do. (Exactly what I don’t know how to do.) Tearing away the hand that had anchored me in place, the firm hand on my shoulder so she could land, somehow purposefully, onto a ready and waiting elbow. (Never extricating the hand curled softly around my ear. Used it instead to hold_ us _steady. To hold_ me _steady.) Landed with only the softest of exhalations._

_As for me? As for how I ended up?_

_Well I suppose I reacted on some instinctual level as well. Though grace has no place in my vocabulary._

_There’s no other reason that can explain the way one of my hands ended up fitting through the narrow gap between her forearm and her hip. Landed so near and so close to that elbow that held us both aloft. Jolting in its immediacy. There’s no other reason that can explain the way the other landed, so solidly, so unintentionally firmly on the warm skin of her hip. Gripped as though to let go would send the both of us unceremoniously to the floor._

_So quick it wasn’t until I felt her shift that I realized where all the heat below my fingertips was coming from._

_So let me repeat, for clarity’s sake: It was mortifying. But dear god…_

_And a funny thing happened in the same instant that my cheeks and my ears flared hot and red in embarrassment. Surprised me in the most relieving of ways. As I looked down at her from where I’d suddenly found myself perched over her still awkwardly constrained legs._

_She just smiled. Small and slowly forming. Took an extra second before she pulled her eyes open. While she brushed that thumb, the one that somehow never dislodged itself, ever so slightly against the soft skin beside my ear. Sent a matching shiver down my spine._

_From somewhere beneath my embarrassment, from somewhere beneath that mortification, I couldn’t help the breathy chuckle that released out into the space. Into the still dark, thunderously silent space as she looked up at me with those eyes that did nothing but scream ‘_ Finally!’ _up into mine._

 _And somehow, rather than immediately making mention of my complete and utter_ lack of cool _, she started chuckling too. Just the two of us, with softly reverberating chests and smiling eyes in the middle of the night while the rest of the world was sleeping._

_It took another few moments of unabashed revel for us to separate ourselves. To pull ourselves away from our unintentional, but compromising position at the sound of rustling from the other side of the thin walls._

_Played listening games while we tightly held our breaths, as we tried to determine if we’d woken Alex in our brief moment. But when the silence settled once again, and the churning in our stomachs slowed, we were left just the two of us, side-by-side once again on the floor._

_Overly shy and hesitant._

_Just hope filled chests rising and falling in the vague glow of the outside streetlight. Just the smallest tugging at our lips. Just the smallest wrinkles at the corners of our eyes._

_Just seconds fallen away as we drank in each other’s presence. As our revelations settled beneath our skin._

_And of course it’s her who broke the silence with a vibrant wisp of speech._

_“It’s late.”_

_Continued to be the one who pushed us forward. Towards some end. Towards some next step. Continued to be the brave one. The one who believed, or maybe just the one with hope that I would follow._

_“Yeah. It is. What time is it anyways?”_

_She just turned her head a little. A gentle glance._

_“I don’t think it really matters. Do you?”_

_And she looked so soft, so vulnerable in the light. So open and so revealed that I couldn’t think of a single thing besides her that was worth filling that silence with. All I had to give was a shake of my head. A “No, I suppose that it doesn’t.”_

_Which is of course, how we remained. Until finally, finally, she gingerly made her way to stand. Reached with a hand of invitation to help me back to my feet as well. So familiar to the way she’d lofted us both when we’d sat so near the fire. So foreign with the way her fingers curled their way around mine. The way they tangled as both our hands dropped between us. Like she wasn’t quite ready to let go._

_“You should get some sleep tonight.”_

_As if I could sleep. As if I could get the flutter of the heart in my chest to quiet long enough to even think of dreaming._

_“Yeah…Maybe.”_

_And she just smiled. Smiled like she could hear the thoughts filtering inside my head. Like she could feel the same feelings in the warm home of her chest. Looked incredibly shy, so intimately unsure as she stepped forward once more._

_“Can I…” she bit at her lip again, “…can I maybe hug you goodnight?”_

_As though she needed permission._

_As though I hadn’t already basically given her every permission she could ask for._

_“Of course.”_

_And it was just a statement on an outbreath. All that could be mustered for her. A statement matched with a step forward. With the softest wrapping of her arms around me. The both of us finding, in a far more graceful instance, the way that we fit. The way that she leaned, heavier than necessary to rest herself in the crook of my neck._

_“Goodnight Em.”_

_And she was so close. Practically speaking straight into my ear. Barely a hair between us. The churn of my stomach so prominent. The quiver of my knees unavoidable._

_“Goodnight Kell.”_

_It was, surprisingly and unsurprisingly, so difficult to leave through the door of that room. To leave the moment and the world that was just our own. To leave the safety of the darkness out into the brightly lit hall outside._

_It was inexplicable murder, a violent tug to my heart to leave when she looked like that._

_While she held the tangle of our hands until I was fully out the door._

_While she left me to walk the unwanted distance to my dorm._

_While she presumably crept back through the bathroom doors to find refuge in her own bed._

_While she texted, ‘I’ll see you soon’ as though it could possibly make up for the all the time in the night that I’d wish I’d never left._

“Earth to Sonny! Let’s go space case! We’re gonna be late.”

There’s Lindsey’s voice. Dragging me back to reality as she hops the steps down two at a time. Back to the present. Looking with a look so unlike the one worn on Kelley’s face. Looking with a look so like the one Alex wears that I, to this point, had never been able to decipher.

Looking so much like she’s curious and wary and waiting for me to explain where in my head I’m actually at. Like she knows I’ve got something I should tell her.

And I wonder, if she’s looking at me like that, what kind of guilt I’m wearing on my face.

“Yeah—Yeah I’m coming!” And I wonder how badly that’s going to go if I can’t hide it.

If I don’t want to.

\--------------------------------------------------

We’re lucky, I think, in a lot of ways.

We, being Kelley and I.

Ways, being the fact that we’ve already built a way of operating around each other. We already have a routine of behaviors. We’ve always spent a lot of time together. We’ve always had that extra time spent at the field. She’s always shown up unexpectedly at my door.

There’s nothing new there that would cause any questions.

Nothing new that would raise eyebrows. That would cause suspicion.

To anyone that doesn’t know, it would be as though nothing has changed. As though twilight meetings never occurred. As though we haven’t finally placed what we’ve been harboring in our secrets out into the open.

_But everything has changed._

I feel it in the rising hairs on the back of my neck. I feel it in the way I feel her eyes on me. I feel it in the way I somehow know, instinctually, just where precisely she’s sitting in the Student Union after training. As I’m finally joining the others who have already settled in for breakfast after grabbing ice.

Can feel it in the warmth she’s radiating as her stare finally meets my searching eyes. As she tries (and fails) to contain the smallest of smiles as she’s listening to something Tobin’s explaining across the table. A silent acknowledgment of my presence. A silent _‘Well come here. Come sit by me.’_

“Took you long enough. Here I thought we were the old ones.”

Tobin slides in a jab as she interrupts her own story that she’s been animatedly telling. As I toss my stuff down at the open seat between her and Lindsey. At the seat conveniently across from Kelley who’s snaking her feet out from where she’s apparently been resting them. Acting as though she hasn’t been saving a place for me.  

Alex just looks bored  as she tears into a bite of an immaculately constructed breakfast muffin sandwich from where she’s sitting next to Kelley. But, honestly, that’s the way she usually looks when she’s not directly involved with the storytelling. Has me guessing that this is a story she was actually directly involved with. That she’d rather be 100% focused on the taste of her food rather than listening.  

“Yeah, yeah. Blame _that one_ for my needing to grab ice or I’d have been here sooner.”

Alex grins and shrugs.

“Not my fault. Just doing my job.”

The entire group laughs. Not in the way that says something is funny, just the chuckle that says ‘valid point.’

“Yeah, whatever you say Al. I’ll be right back, gotta grab something to eat before I starve to death.”

And I’m not so foolish as to leave my phone lying there, undefended. Tucking it instead into the waistband of my spandex and shorts. Not as though there’s anything compromising that I might want to hide.

_Not yet anyway._

Rather Tobin’s been finding it funny lately to hide them in the napkin holders spread around the tables. Has taken to laughing hard and taunting everyone, even Alex, as they search container to container.

“Oh hush. We just fed you last night. What more do you need.” And Tobin’s laughing as she says it. Laughing at her own joke in a way that’s so entirely Tobin. Too full of energy for her own good with nowhere to use it.

“Listen. Girl’s gotta eat!” And I’m replying with equal temperament. With equal amusement. Because her joke isn’t really all that funny. But I’m _pretty partial_ to last night in a way that see mirrored in the face across from mine.

And while I’m turning to walk away, I can’t help but find myself subtly watching the way Kelley’s subtly watching me. The way her eyes drag slow from where I’m at before they land back on Tobin as she starts back into her story as though there was never any pause at all.

It’s like the world keeps turning but we’re in some other gear. Rotating at some speed that’s so close, but not nearly the same as the one they’re operating at. Parallel. Without anyone being any the wiser to it.

By the time I stop to swipe my meal card, though, that phone I’ve so carefully brought with me is vibrating from where I’ve tucked it.

               ‘ _Make me a banana chocolate chip waffle?’_

I’m spinning back around mid-step to stare incredulously back at where she’s sitting. To express my disbelief at the request. To find Kelley, head perched on her hand as she grins slyly. So obviously tuned out of their conversation and back into the undercurrent world we’re developing. Watch her tuck her chin again, obviously looking down, obviously typing away again before the screen in my hand flashes back to life with another message.

               ‘ _Please please please?’_

And we all know by now don’t we?

               ‘ _Seriously Kel?’_

We know by now what I’ll end up doing. That I’ll grab a banana from the offered fruit. That I’ll beg the kindest employee behind the counter for a cup of chocolate chips.

               _‘I’ll make it worth your while.’_

That I’ll end up making her over-lavish breakfast creation. That I’ll bring it back without another question. That my stomach will spend the time doing somersaults and backflips.

               ‘ _You owe me.’_

That she never even had to entice me. That I’d have done it for free.

               ‘ _Promise.’_

We all know by now, right? That maybe I’m already pretty far gone. 

What’s interesting, I think, is that no one seems to blink an eye at the half Belgian-style waffle I drop onto Kelley’s plate upon my return. Keeping half for myself of course. A point I accentuate with a noted  smirk in her direction. (Correction: Lindsey might, but I specifically avoided looking at her. So there’s no guarantee.) Kelley just smiles happily though. Tearing off a small piece to taste with her bare fingers that has oozed with a melted chocolate chip before she starts the process of wolfing it down in its entirety. She gives an innocent thumbs up over the table in approval as we all settle in for what time we have remaining before our first classes.

Apparently in appreciation.

“I didn’t know we were putting in orders. Where’s mine?”

Though of course Alex would question it.

“No one’s putting in orders. I just got too much on accident. Figured our resident waffle-lover here would prefer to have the other half rather than let it go to waste.”

She shrugs in acceptance.

“I want it next time. Calling dibs now. It’s only fair.”

I’m chuckling. Tobin’s shaking her head in amusement. Lindsey looks curious at this dynamic she hasn’t had the opportunity to be so closely acquainted with. Kelley’s outright laughing as she chews. Because of course I’m digging myself deeper into white lie territory with Alex. And of course, it’s only natural that it would be about food. Falling into a pattern that Kelley’s somehow managed to start without ever making mention that she’d rather keep this quiet.

“Of course. Can’t let her think she’s being spoiled.”

It’s dripping sarcasm. The kind that Alex latches onto to carry on the teasing. But I think Kelley knows that I don’t mean it. Can feel it in the hesitant way her foot finds mine under the table. The way she slides hers to rest, gradually, shoe to shoe, ankle to ankle. The way she’s nodding and laughing at all the right moments but the way her eyes keep leaping over mine.

With everyone around.

With everyone unaware.

Here.

In the open space.

The way we’re having a moment now.

\-------------------------------------------------------

When my final class of the day let’s out, I cannot help but to cheer in sweet silent victory. Picking my head up off the wall from where I’ve managed to snag the highly sought end seat. From where I’ve been struggling to pass the test on staying awake as my body finally begins to feel the aftereffects of a night without sleep. Because truly, classes at this point in the semester are more a lesson on managing boredom than actually paying attention to lectures that hold any significant importance.

Or maybe this class just feels that way based on how Michael (who never wears shoes to class) keeps derailing the professor with seriously unimportant questions. 

That isn’t important though. That’s more of a personal annoyance.

Getting back on track, having already eaten lunch while studying in the library with Sam, what I think is significant to note, is that I have a golden window of opportunity. A blessed moment, in the middle of the day, where life has finally calmed and my mind is at ease.

A time when, I think you know, all I want is a nap.

My feet are practically dragging by the time I end up back in my dorm room, throwing myself haphazardly face first into my bed. Backpack still strapped tight.

My roommate just chuckles from where she’s lounging in sweatpants watching Netflix with a bowl of cereal. She’s a great fan of lazy days as a form of mental wellness. (Hint: If I wasn’t in season, I’d be right there following suit.)

“Long day?” She questions, with a sort of goading pitch.

“Long life.” It’s just a muffled response into the pillow but she hears it. Can tell as she shifts herself around in the bed. The way she hits pause to whatever show had her attention before.

“Sound like someone’s cranky cause they were out all night. You didn’t get in till like…4.” She’s mocking me just a bit. And I’m equal parts guilty at apparently having woken her enough to recognize the time on my return, and being unreasonably offended that she’s calling me out on it.

Sitting up to throw my bag off my back finally, I get a good look at where she’s sitting in amusement. “Well you know what they say. You can have a social life, good grades, or sleep. But not all three. Guess I’m sacrificing sleep.”

She just hums as though she knew it was coming. The sarcasm as defense. And then she smiles good-naturedly.

“You just roll around a lot when you aren’t sleeping.”

I suppose I can’t exactly deny that one. I can’t exactly be this put-off when what she’s saying is absolute truth. When I’m the one being unreasonable about being called out for waking her up.

“Sorry. I’ll be quieter next time.”

She just holds out a thumbs up and an affirmative nod. All, apparently, right with the world again. And I wonder how lucky I’ve gotten to have her as my random roommate. How easy she’s been about every ridiculous thing I’ve done so far.

“You’ve got time for a nap right? You don’t have practice till, what…3? Or are you going early again with Kelley?”

_Shit. Forgot about that…_

“Uhhhhh. About that…”

She just laughs again. As though my space case brain is the typical.

“Just text her. I’m sure it’d be fine to not go early for one day.”

And here’s the thing. It’s not that it wouldn’t be fine. I’m one hundred percent sure that it would be. That she’d crack a joke and we’d all move on.

The problem is, that despite how much I want to sleep right now, the tugging in my stomach tells me I’d rather see her. After midnight confessions. After spontaneous moments. After all this time spent and finally knowing, I’d just rather have her here. _I’d rather see how she intends to pay me back for breakfast kindnesses._

It’s a predicament. Of course.

But as the show volume picks back up and I can tell my roommate is resuming her mental health day, I know that she’s right. I know that I can’t keep this up and still be 100% ready for what Coach might throw at us today.

‘ _My body is a traitor. It’s telling me it can’t keep going without a nap. That it needs to back out of early practice and catch some Z’s.’_

I haven’t even finished kicking my shoes off when her response comes in. Poignant and telling.

               ‘A _voiding me now?’_

And it’s a gut-punch. A reminder that maybe not everything is squared away in our little world. A reminder that has me scrambling for something to say that can ease whatever fears are developing on her side of the line.

‘ _Of course not.  Lauren’s here, but you could join me if you really wanted. She happily reminded me that I didn’t get in last night until 4-something.’_

This time the wait is longer. The ellipses disappearing on and off. Each time upending my nervousness just a little more. As I sneak my way under the comforter I can’t help but to imagine what internal debate she’s struggling with.

And then I can’t help but to realize, in my haste to reassure her, that maybe I’ve just invited her to experience Grade-A cuddling without really thinking things through.

Can’t help but to worry that maybe that was the wrong thing to say.

               _‘I can’t. I have to help Allie with her Biology.’_

And I officially feel like that was the wrong thing to say. Stomach sinking as I try to figure a way out of this obvious denial. Out of this obvious shutdown that feels like a rake to the face.

               _‘What silly little thing would have kept you out so late though? ;) ‘_

And suddenly I realize Kelley isn’t trying to saying anything about my lack of communication skills. That I’m the one who’s being entirely overreactive. That instead of her assuming anything, my guilty conscious is bleeding into what I’m reading. Has the gut-punch and sinking stomach immediately turning into something more like nervous apprehension. Something more like giddiness. Has words falling out before I can properly vet them.

               ’ _Oh. Just this girl. We had some things we needed to say.’_

There’s something about the way this is going now that has me burrowing further into the covers. Tangling myself up into them. Into the safety they provide from a potentially prying world. Away from the light of day streaming in through the blinds. Away from my roommate, just feet away.

_‘Just some girl? Very specific. You know nothing good happens after midnight, right? You sure you just had things to say?’_

There’s a pang of something in my stomach. A thing just over the edge of comfortable but that I can’t stop myself from wanting to keep feeling.

_‘Maybe just a little more than things to say. Just a little.’_

There’s something there that screams, _I can’t believe this._ That I’m somehow not falling on my proverbial face. The way that it seems easy when it comes to her.

_‘:) How about I let you nap while I keep Allie from failing, and when I’m done I’ll make sure that you’re awake in time for practice.’_

I can’t help but aim for snark here. Can’t help but throw back at her the way I’ve had a revolving door of music thanks to hers truly.

_‘You already do that. What’s my alarm going to be this time?’_

But her response is surprisingly immediate.

_‘That’s a surprise for you to find out.’_

Maybe I can’t help the way my nose scrunches at that one. Always having a hard time at waiting when I know that something is coming.

_‘You know I could just look.’_

_‘Don’t ruin the fun Em. Surprises are important.’_

And maybe it is important. Not the surprise of course. But just to let her have this. To let this be a thing that she can do. A small footprint she can lay out into my day if that’s what she wants to do.

_‘Fine. Fine. I’ll nap and see you in a bit then? Good luck with that Biology.’_

_‘Oh. I’m gonna need it. Don’t worry. I’ll be seeing you soon.’_

And after that, well, it just seems to feel too easy. The way that sleep rides in so quickly, so rapidly, that I don’t even realize it’s happened until I’m being woken back up.

A thin line of drool snaking down my arm.

And my brain is flying through a hundred indignations as start to untangle myself from the burrow of my comforter. The primary one being _She never woke me up! There was no alarm!_

My brain, however, is obviously a slowly working machine. Pathways still a little slow feeding the information to where it needs to be.

Because there’s obviously a reason I’m awake.

There’s a reason that has nothing to do with any kind of innate ability to wake up in time to not be late.

A reason that’s definable.

A reason that’s standing right in front of me. Or, to be specific, hunched over beside my bed with the cheekiest grin.  

Because she does better than what I’d anticipated of course.

And shouldn’t we have expected that?

“Good morning sleepy.” And she’s just looking up at me from where she remains. As though she doesn’t have her own lightly hidden dark circles to contend with. As though she’s got all the energy in the world.

“How’d you…? How’d you get in here?”

At that she stands, pushing both hands off her knees as she does so. I’m just now recognizing the _tap, tap, tapping_ of what must be Tobin outside in the hall.

“Secrets for me to know. And you to maybe find out. _Someday._ ”

She smiles again, just slightly shyer than usual, before she reaches out a hand to help me up and out of bed. As though she’s still getting used to having this kind of connection. This kind of granted freedom.

Maybe we both are. The way my stomach knots every time her skin touches mine.

And I’m not sure if I feel lucky, or if I feel smartly prepared to know that I don’t have to change. That wearing training gear instead of real clothes has become a kind of habit. That I just have to grab my shoes and bag to go.

She holds on to my pinky as I stumble out from beneath the covers. As I steady myself amongst the mess of clothing on the floor.

“You ready then?” And it’s strange, the way she’s asking in such a hesitant way. Small and rough. The way it sounds unsure. As though she doesn’t know that I always leave my things right next to the door so that it doesn’t take any preparation to be ready. That I’ve unintentionally managed to buy us a few justifiable minutes _apparently alone_. As my roommate who’s far better at leaving silently is curiously absent now.

“Yeah? Why? Something wrong?”

And she bites at her lip. Chews it in that way that I’m becoming increasingly familiar with. That warns me that _something_ is coming.

“Just…we’ve got a minute right? Can I…uhm…Can I?”

It takes a second for my brain to wrap itself around her nervousness. Where I’m instinctually squeezing that pinky she has into a messy fist. An action of comfort and prompting. It takes that moment to suddenly get it. Get it in a way that has my cheeks burning red. Burning hot.

In a way that heralds the return of that dangerously desired pang in my stomach.

“Can you what, Kel?” And I have no idea what’s come over me. The way that I don’t even trip over the words. The way they sort of seem to come low and unbidden. All of their own accord.

She looks at me sideways. Evaluates what she sees on my face in lightning fashion before she tugs on that held pinky to pull my balance forward before she takes a step toward me. Before she reaches with the other hand to rest softly against my chin. Before she _literally stops me from moving at all_. Lesson learned from the midnight rendezvous.

Presses her lips, firmly but oh so soft against mine. Confident and hesitant all at once. But definitely, definitely not missing the mark this time. Just a simple, unwavering, press of skin to skin.

By the time I realize it’s silly the way she was so nervous about this she’s pressing forward just a little more. Has me reaching out for something to steady myself. Has my right hand bunching into the fabric of her t-shirt as though that alone could hold my legs up.

So carefully avoiding the actual heat of her skin. Altogether unready for the feeling that intentional touch might bring. (Especially when all that springs to mind is the previous night.)

She doesn’t pull away until after I can physically feel her smiling against me though. Never asking for anything more than this chaste moment.

Both seemingly perfectly happy with this single innocent instant.

We’re just looking at each other, faces just inches apart, breathing each other in when she grins again. Poking at my abdomen without warning. Causing the both of us to jump roughly apart. Her in laughter at my immediate reaction, myself in ticklish fanfare.

Not entirely unlike the Pillsbury Doughboy.

“That woke you up!” And she’s laughing now as I’m glaring just a bit. Just enough for her to know that I’m not letting her get away with it. Laughter that prompts my leaping towards her as a way to get revenge. Immediate and unadulterated.

The ensuring scramble a raucous mess of skidding chairs and laughter as we try so very hard to get at each other.

I don’t notice the way the pounding of the ball in the hallway has stopped until Tobin’s poking her head in through the door.

Until she has us both frozen under her curious gaze. Both stock-still in our attempt to get at where each other might be ticklish.

“I’m soooo not going to ask. But, maybe you can continue this later when we won’t be late for practice?” She laughs in good humor and jingles her keys. Signaling that I don’t need to worry about mine. That she’ll drive us over to the field today.

Kelley just laughs it off. Looks at me with a look that an outsider might consider devilish. Like she doesn’t regret a single thing. That she’ll be taking up that mention of _later._ That I can’t help but see pure flirtation in. That has me fighting at the knotting in my stomach.

Has me fighting at the obvious thoughts as I grab my bag and shoes to walk with them. That has me overly aware of the way Kelley’s hand keeps bumping into mine (too frequent to be sheer accident) as we walk behind Tobin who’s now trying to best her previous juggling record on our walk to the car.

Even as Kelley calls _Shotgun!_ And skitters in quick short strides to the awaiting Jeep.

Has me realizing things I hadn’t noticed. Wondering if they’re new or just something I’ve failed to observe. Like the way Kelley’s eyes travel to the mirror. The way I catch her watching me while Tobin belts out 90’s alternative. The way those eyes don’t shy away. The way she only smiles when she catches that I’m staring straight back

And there’s a part of me that knows that none of this should feel so simple.

That with things being so complicated that they should definitely feel like it.

That none of this should feel so easy. So natural.

But with the end of August’s summer sun; with the heat and the wind through the windows; with Tobin’s joyful crooning in the front seat; with Kelley so unapologetically here, eyes trailing the same paths as mine, it does.

She’s physically here when she could be anywhere else.

With anyone else.

Everything feels like it’s falling into place.

Everything really does feel that simple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I'm late! I'll do better! Please feel free. Scold away while I get back to the studying I should be doing instead of writing this. :) Also, I posted this without editing, so if there's mistakes, I'll fix them later. 
> 
> In other news: There's always time for some awkward happy So'hara right?


	12. Welcome Back Reality

Practice is never fun. Not really. It’s hot and we’re tired and half the drills we’re set to do and half the instructions the coaches shout at us never entirely make sense. But that doesn’t mean that we don’t enjoy ourselves. That doesn’t mean that we don’t find the time in-between inter-squad scrimmaging and full field punishment sprints to mutter under our breaths about what coach would really do if we just decided we were done. That we just weren’t running any more sprints. That we were just walking away to go be normal students with full social lives and the ability to go out in the middle of the week.

We don’t, of course.

We don’t walk away from the line or the whistle. We run all of those sprints. We don’t get to be normal students. We don’t get to go out in the middle of the week. We run ourselves thin on a normal basis.

And we practice hard.

Which is, of course, exactly the way that I want it. Exactly the way that _we_ want it. All of us. The collective whole. Because as much as we complain, as much as we mutter and grumble; as much as we would murder for an extra fifteen minutes just to breathe, or maybe sleep, we live for this. 

For conference games. For home openers. For night lights on the first of September.

For the fans that actually show up. The dedicated faculty. The other students in our classes. The other athletes who show up dressed in aptly colored solidarity. For the parents who travel to see the big moments. For _my_ parents who have traveled those miles. Sitting somewhere outside in those stands just waiting for us to emerge.

“Tobin. Stop giving me that look. I know that I packed it.”

It’s a startling voice in the space, hard and low. We’re set to start warmups any minute now. I should already be outside. Finding my warmup line. Stretching out my legs. Searching the stands for the face of my father.

Alex instead is literally disassembling her entire soccer bag. Tossing empty water bottles (one, two, three, four, five, six…), wadded up socks, an extra pair of cleats, shin guards, snacks into a pile in her locker as she searches frantically.

 “I’m not giving you a look Al. Calm down.”

Tobin’s leaning against the edge of the wall separating the lockers from the showers. Her favorite ball tucked up against her stomach with both hands. She doesn’t look particularly concerned about Alex’s frazzled search. More impatient. Eyes flicking quickly between Alex, the clock on the wall, and the door. Tobin gives her a lot of leeway, I’ve known this for weeks now. But being late on the field isn’t one of them.

Alex stops picking individual items out of her bag to glare back at her. Most definitely giving Tobin the look _she was just warning her against._ A look that could be aptly described as _downright withering._

“Yes. You are. I can feel it. Why don’t you help me look instead of just standing there.”

I can feel the hairs on my arms raise. Equal parts in response to the prickly air Alex is throwing off (her unusually tense moodiness) and the warm presence that slides close. Kelley just skimming my hip as she leans around me. Face unnecessarily close as she smiles slyly. Snatches the container of ibuprofen that she knows is sitting on the top shelf of my locker. She stays close as she steals two with an unobserved wink. Face still a smile in my direction but her attention thrown across the space. Both of us eavesdropping and trying not to look obvious as Alex turns back to her belongings in front of her. Gives up her attempt at individual disassembly. Picks the bag up from the bottom, upturning it entirely.

More bottles and articles of clothing falling free.

From the look on her face though, a hard scowl and knitted eyebrows, as she sifts through the mess that’s gathered, there’s no luck in finding whatever it is she’s looking for.

“Look, Al. It’s obviously back in your room. You just forgot it. It’s not a big deal. Why don’t you just ask Jules if you can borrow some of hers? We need to finish up in here and get outside to warm up.”

Alex chucks the now empty bag into the back of her locker. Leaves the mess where it lays. (To clean up later I assume). She runs a heavy hand across her face, tugging hard at her bottom lip for just a second as though she needs to assist herself in holding her temper.

“It’s not in the room. I _literally just_ told you that.”

And then, without any sense of warning Alex shrugs by her with a hard sigh. (Walking in the direction of JJ who’s currently tying her cleats, laughing as Crystal dances around her and Christen) Shoulder knocking heavily into shoulder. Pivoting Tobin a quarter-way around. Off-balance and looking offended.

“Christ Alex. Get on me about manners. You know you could say excuse me.”

Alex doesn’t respond. Doesn’t even take the time to shrug as Tobin secures her ball more firmly in the crook of her elbow. Doesn’t watch to see as Tobin takes a long last concerned look at her before walking to exit the locker room shaking her head. Opening the door with an overly rough shove that ushers in a hush despite the pre-game music. What remains of the room’s occupants turning to stare in open wonder.

Even Crystal stops dancing as Alex approaches them.   

Kelley just shakes her head with a sigh while I’m quirking an eyebrow up at her. She places the ibuprofen back where she found it while I’m asking all the inaudible questions.

Like: _What in the actual hell was that?_

It’s Allie who actually gets words out though. Popping up abruptly to wedge herself into the small space between Kelley and I.

“So. Trouble in paradise. What’s that about?”

Kelley chuckles lightly but tiredly as she puts a step of distance between us so Allie can more comfortably squeeze in. In a way that says she’s definitely heard this before. Has had this conversation at least once.

“Trouble? It’s _Alex_ , Allie. You know that could be anything. She didn’t mention anything to me this morning so who really knows.” Kelley takes the time to swivel an eye toward me. In a way that might be a failed eye roll but that just comes off a little awkward and makes me want to chuckle. That gets her to smile just a little bigger. “But come on. Paradise? How many times do I have to tell you they’re not together.”

Alex in the corner is double checking the blue pre-wrap she’s tied into a headband, making sure it’s captured all the rogue flyaways. JJ is quietly holding the roll of blue with one hand while they talk in subdued voices that I can’t hear. Christen looks vaguely uncomfortable as she tucks her thumbs into the bottom of her jersey, rolling the hem over them. Crystal has disappeared entirely.

Kelley’s turned back to Allie now, in anticipation of what will inevitably follow. One hand resting on her hip, the other dangling, cracking knuckles as she waits.

“You say it every time. And every time I say?”

Allie’s grinning back now. One eye cocked and full of snark.

“ _Bet.”_ They say in unison and laugh lightly.

“Bet all you want Allie. Alex has Serv and Tobin...well Tobin is Tobin.”

I’m double checking the laces on my cleats for the fourth time now. Trying to disentangle their overly familiar banter from what they’re really saying. Failing of course, but trying. Delaying the inevitable moment that we have to leave and head outside.

There’s no way we aren’t dangerously close to being late now.

“First, Kel.” Allie’s voice is dropping low. “That’s not a denial that Alex has a thing for our dear Tobs. And _Second,_ Alex being with Servando doesn’t _mean_ anything.” The look on Allie’s face has dipped as dark as the low voice she’s speaking in. Obviously keeping the statement from the figure across the room. But also relaying something else there. Something akin to an unfathomable doubt. Something that unknowingly hits me just a little too close to home for comfort. I can’t help but wonder if the underside of Kelley’s skin itches in the way mine does at hearing it. “But, you know, say what you want to say. You always do anyways.”

She’s brightening now. Obviously over the heavy implications in the moment. Obviously glossing over what she’s insinuating. “But really though. Wanna bet me on it? I lost out on my last round with Alyssa and I could really go for some free Chipotle. She’s really good by the way. Don’t let the quiet fool you. She’s a hustler.”

Kelley just grins and shakes her head.

“Come on Em. Let’s get going before Coach has our head.” She sets a soft hand on my shoulder to prompt our leaving. A hand that sends a warm jolt through me in a way I’m still slightly ashamed to admit. Has me rising away from my extraordinarily well-tied cleats with an easiness that I’m not sure I should be claiming. “Allie’s just mad that she can’t win. She never learned the art of insider information.”

Allie laughs it off generally with a wave of her hand.

“I suppose I’ll go get the woman in question. _Someone’s_ gotta save JJ and see if Alex is done stressing out. We’ve got a game to win after all.”

Allie takes a couple steps backwards with wide eyes that scream _Murder Me Now_ before she turns completely to get to Alex _._ Kelley chuckles and waves at her, full sarcasm on display as she mouths _Good Luck. See you at your funeral._

With a twist, we both head for the door. Slipping outside into the last rays of sunset. Cleats clacking in time on the concrete. Leaving previous moments behind.

“Ready Em?” She’s looking sideways, face warm but set with determination. Slipping easily from joking Kel to Game Ready Kelley. The transformation is so sudden I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to anticipate it.

“I’m a little nervous honestly. My parents are here…somewhere.”

Kelley’s quiet for a moment. Pensive. I wonder, briefly, if she doesn’t remember me telling her they were coming today.

“You look for them?”

I haven’t. Which might make me a bad daughter, but I’ve been otherwise preoccupied and obviously _the game_ takes precedence. Has nothing to do with the fact that I’m nervous of what else I might see up there.

“No. I guess I’m a little nervous to finally see them, ya know? It sounds stupid or whatever but it’s just been awhile.”

She nods reassuringly. Like she does know. Or maybe just that she understands. That she doesn’t really see it being that big of a deal. Like she’s suddenly so much less apprehensive than she was just moments previously.

“Better give them a game then. Something special to see this time.” She claps a hand against my shoulder. Bracing and simultaneously shaking in typical fashion. On cue, somehow, with exactly what I need.

“Well, I mean, I’ll try.”

We turn and head through the narrow gap out onto the field.

“Do or do not.” Kelley teases. Full Yoda voice on display.

“Nerd.”

She just grins.

“You love it.”

I’m ignoring the low swoop in my stomach. Ignoring the way she’s got my heart rate picking up incrementally. I focus instead on the way all I feel is calm now. The nerves and anxiety dripping away. The way that I know that we’ve got this. No hesitation. All confidence. I’m looking back to her instead. Connecting with those eyes still full of laughter.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say.” Sounding every bit like a dragged out response despite acknowledging that there’s a lot I like about her.

It’s low but she hears it. She laughs. A breathy outburst into the air before she just shrugs and turns to lead the way at a quicker pace.

The both of us jogging towards Coach who’s started the process of looking at her watch across the field next to the bench.

I’m so wrapped up in things, in warmups, in Coach talking, in Tobin and Alex standing at odds with each other across the huddle, in anticipation of the other team half a field away, that I forget to even look up into the stands.

I forget to find their faces. I forget what I’m nervous of finding. I just trust that they’ll be there.

And I let the game take over.

\--------------------------------------------------

Tobin was a terror on the field. Playing with a kind of vigor that I can’t understand how she maintained. With a kind of creativity and flair that actually had cheers erupting from the bleachers each time she found a way to dispossess and get the ball forward. Face a mask of determination.

Alex remained moody at best throughout play until the final 10 minutes of the second half when she finally put us on the board. When she finally slipped us into a narrow lead. She constantly drove hard to try and get to goal, but always seemed just a step off as she jostled hard with her defenders. More than once I could have sworn I saw a ref contemplate a yellow over her aggression. Over her arguing mouth.

But when she does finally connect, when she finally takes a chance-ridden pass from Tobin that found her in a tight gap of space, whatever tenseness that had hold over her broke. As they celebrated, it felt like the world shifted itself back into proper motion.

Alex almost never apologizes. We’ve all witnessed the evidence of this. But the way she clasped her hand to Tobin’s on the edge of the box as we returned to play felt a lot like one. Fell right in line with the pattern that’s begun to emerge in my mind for her. The way she shows her meaning through her actions rather than her words.

As for how we win though? _Because we do win with that tight 1-0 margin_. Well that’s actually a defensive feat. 

Ali, in the heat of the moment, winds up getting close-lined stopping an increasingly dangerous run that could have had us tied and is left as one of our walking wounded for the rest of the game. Kelley does everything in her power to be a wall they can’t get through. Relying primarily on her speed and endurance rather than her skill on the ball. Becky’s more vocal than I’ve ever heard her. Orders delivered and followed more closely than any of us would think of listening to Coach. And Alyssa, with not one but two phenomenal saves that hold us in the game early.

The view from the sidelines was certainly something to see.

But the view from on the field was breathtaking.

Not in the way that means I was stunned. In the way that left each of us with raised hackles as we finally got a taste of what was occurring. One of their forwards overly aggressive. Mouthy without cause. Playing just subtly enough to not get called for the dirty plays.

When Kelley gained herself a bloody nose, gained herself a trip off the field until the trainer could get her cleaned up, I won’t deny being included in the group that started pushing just as hard to get even. Found myself guilty of a high cleat more than once. Claiming ignorance at the ref’s knowing eyes and stern warning.

But the line held.

It made it all a little sweeter when the final whistle was called. When we could release the tension we’d been carrying in our shoulders.

Made it all the better when we could finally tear our attention away from the field. Cast our eyes up to those who were watching. Who all stood to celebrate just a brazenly as we were. Left the opening to finally find my parents faces there among the crowd. My mother clapping tightly near her chest; my father a wide grin as he stood with his hands stuffed inside his pockets, chest puffed out proudly.

Honestly, I’d only barely found them and begun to wave when Tobin slips a ball between my legs and comes crashing into me. Arm swung sloppily around my neck as she gazes up gleefully in the direction I’m looking.

“Which one belongs to you? Tell me it’s the over-excited mom with the hat.”

I’m laughing now. Because of course Tobin would care. Tobin who invited me to share her family so I wasn’t alone after our first game. Tobin, who’s never more happy than after the end of a winning performance.

“Nah. I think that’s Sam’s mom. She’s precious though. Mine are up near the right side of the press box.” I’m pointing now, dipping over her shoulder in an obvious attempt to guide her eyes.

“The guy with the jean overshirt?”

“No, no, I have no idea who that guy is. More right.”

I adjust the angle of my pointing, trying again.

“The guy with the hat and the college shirt that look like they’re brand new straight out of the bookstore?”

“Yes!”

She grins, humming deep in her chest as she appraises them before she leans close. “That’s your mom right? Beside him? Why does she not look like we just won a big game?”

I can’t help the sigh and the eye roll that follows.

“That’s just mom. You get used to it. She celebrates in her own way. But dad? Dad’s the best. You’re gonna meet them right? He keeps asking about you. Calls you a _good egg_ to keep around _._ ”

She laughs, mouth falling open as she smiles wide.

“Of course! Told you! My parents had to miss today to be with my grandparents so I’m all yours. It’s an even trade-off.” She holds her head high as though it’s a genius sentiment. A perfect idea.

“So. What about…Alex?”

She pauses, grabbing ahold of the hesitance in my statement. She casts a glance over her shoulder to where Alex and Kelley are walking along together back toward the bench. Her face changing shape a few times before she settles, finally, with a shrug.

“Ask her? I know Servando isn’t here today, but I didn’t get a chance to ask her earlier if her parents made it. So, I don’t really know what she’s feeling up to today.”

It’s a pointedly civil response. But at the very least, it’s without any kind of malice. No outward thoughts in relation to Alex’s earlier behavior, despite the way we can both hear them in our undertones. In our pointedly obvious subtext.

“Will do then. Shower and meet you in fifteen?”

She nods easily and makes to jog off, turning abruptly as she skips backwards.

“You’re nicer than I am. Ten minute max every time!”

I wave her off with a shake of my head.

“I don’t want to have to shower again when I get back to my room. I’m thoroughly washing my hair one time and need the extra five minutes.”

She just grins and continues on without another word. And then I’m looking back up toward the stands where my parents faces are still expectantly following.

My father points off towards Tobin and gestures with a hesitant thumbs up. To which I can only chuckle to myself. Because of course he’d be more interested in making sure she’s coming with us. I shoot him back a strong nod, a thumbs up, and mimic texting him to let him know I’ll let him know what’s going on.

As far as nonverbal communication skills, we have this routine down pat still.

He leans to talk quietly with my mom. Gives me a moment to search the faces in the stands around them. The ones who are left anyways. As the students who aren’t waiting for friends make obvious quick exits.

Gives me the time to see what I wish that I hadn’t.

Justin’s face popping out in the crowd like a million dollar flashing billboard.

There’s a sudden acidic taste in my mouth. Like stomach acid rising that I force myself to shove back down. A buzzing at the base of my skull that coincides with the upwelling in my chest. A reaction I have no choice but to passively breathe through as I turn my attention back to my parents.

My mother nods and they both shoo me off towards the locker room.

It’s not as though I didn’t expect him to show up again at some point. I know that he’s still around. That he’s been hovering in the background of whatever this is between Kelley and I. But it still doesn’t stop the sharp pang of jealousy.

Doesn’t stop the way I need the half field walk to cool the immediate reaction into something far more processed. Far more sorted.

To allow myself a moment to be angry before I concede a few points.

To acknowledge that by not talking about this I’ve given her a kind of permission.

To acknowledge that, in turn, I agreed to this as something I could live with.

(Though I don’t know how long I can.)

And I know this something we need to talk about.

Soon.

\------------------------------------------------------

By the time I get there, Ashlyn’s holding the door open for Ali, carrying both bags as Ali argues in a hushed voice. _She’s perfectly capable and doesn’t need the help._ Ashlyn just rolls her eyes in my direction as I slide past and through the door.

It’s already quieter than I had imagined it would be. There’s no after game meeting with Coach, who decided instead we’d gather tomorrow for lunch and film. Half the team had simply grabbed their bags and left. Which, honestly, makes a lot of sense when our rooms are so close and it’s preferable to taking a locker room shower.

Kelley’s the first to meet my eyes though, passive face splitting into an unbidden smile, head popping up automatically at the sound of entering cleats from where she’s perched on the bench beside Alex. I wonder how many times she’s looked up as Alex spouts off commentary about the game to see that the person who’s entered is the wrong person. That it isn’t who she was looking for.

_Making me the right person._

It’s a swift knock to my sternum, in a way that has me shuffling recent thoughts out of mind, to realize, without a doubt, that the subtle upward crinkling at the corner of her eyes is most definitely for me. That despite what’s outside, who’s outside, her observance, her attention is for me.

Has me shuffling lamely under her gaze towards my locker as my heart pounds unreasonably hard in my throat.

I take the moment to check my phone. My father’s typical play-by-play thoughts as entertaining as ever. Calming and constant. And he’s only all the more endearing when he’s asking if I like the hat he’s picked especially for today’s game. I let him know he’s made an A+ decision (regardless of whether I think it’s a little much), and that I’ll meet him just outside the gate to the parking lot shortly.

Pulling out my towel and extra clothes, I can feel her still watching. Despite every complex emotion, it still somehow sits prominently with me that she didn’t wait on the field to try and find him. That she and Alex were among the first two back here. That she looked for me first. And I make the split second decision that maybe, maybe, rather than feel uncomfortable under the weight of it all, that it’s okay to try and have fun with this. To try, despite all the complications.

Because the honest fact is, I care more about her than I do about him.  

               _‘Whatcha looking at over there? Seems like you’re real interested in whatever it is.’_

From behind me I can hear her lean back against the edge of a locker. Cleats (that she for whatever reason hasn’t changed out of) clacking as she draws her feet up in front of her. By the time I’ve turned around she’s smirking at the phone that she’s got clumsily hidden in her lap. Alex oblivious as she’s talking away while peeling her socks off.

               _‘Oh certainly a lot more interested in you than in this play-by-play complaint I’m getting.’_

I’m shooting her one last look she catches before I’m rounding the wall to shower. Perching my phone, with its blessed water-proof case on the shelf next to me. This conversation I’ve started most certainly interests me, probably too much if I’m honest, but I did tell Tobin fifteen minutes.

And from the humming that sounds just like her I can hear over the water falling in a stall across the room, I know she’ll be ready long before I will. I make it a point to text her that she should meet me outside when she’s done.

               _‘A picture would have lasted longer you know.’_

Miraculously, the water doesn’t take forever to start getting warm. I’m not stuck contemplating how wrong all of this should feel without anything else to keep me occupied.

               _‘A picture doesn’t compare to the real thing.’_

I’m already scalp deep in shampoo as my heart starts to swell. It’s one thing to know that there’s this thing developing. A somewhat uncertain, definitely complicated, but real thing. It’s another thing entirely to hear her truths.

               _‘Confession.’_

It’s a hard thing still to admit things. Hard knowing there’s still a layer of trust we’ve yet to build. Harder maybe, knowing that there’s only a thin stall wall and a handful of steps between us. But it’s unprompted moments like these that feel like the most appropriate time for them.

               _‘Tell me.’_

I skip the effort of trying to condition my hair neatly and fully. Shaking fingers too nervous while I figure out how to phrase what I want to say. Hearing the way she would have urged me on in her soft way. Her voice resonating in my head over the simple text. I have a thousand things I want say. Starting with ‘I wish he wasn’t here.’

               _‘I wish I was celebrating the win with you tonight.’_

It’s entirely innocent. _Mostly_. But it still feels monumental. Monumental in ways I’m not sure she’ll be able to grasp from such a simple statement. That I’m not quite sure I’d be ready for her to see or hear anyways. Because what it’s really saying is, _I’d rather have you with me tonight than have you be anywhere else._ It’s _If I had to choose, I’d choose you over Tobin._ It’s _I’d choose to celebrate with you, rather than my parents._ It’s _I want the chance to have another moment alone with you._

It’s _I Know that I still can’t ask this. And I don’t know if you’d pick me. But I really hope that you would._

And I know that the statement is wholly unsatisfactory to capture all of those things. I know that such simple words can’t convey such feelings. But I’m also pretty sure I wouldn’t be ready to say any of those things directly yet.

               _‘I wish that I was too.’_

And suddenly there’s a feeling there. A feeling that feels vaguely like she knows what’s on my mind. That she’s feeling the same feeling. And I wish, more than ever, I had the courage to ask. But I don’t. Not yet anyway. Because maybe we’re both still toeing the line quietly towards each other. One quickened heartbeat at a time.

               ‘ _You could. If you wanted.’_

And it’s hard still. Dangling these statements out there. Knowing but not knowing what reaction is coming. Knowing she won’t joining (and why), but not knowing what precisely she’ll say. I’m just drying off when her response finally comes in. Two words that put a solid dent in my chest. And all the implications that come with them.

               _‘I can’t.’_

Because I know where she’s going. I know who she’ll be with. I know it in the way that has me echoing _Anything you can live with_ off the walls of my skull. That hurts in all the most expected typical places.

But what I don’t expect is the sudden warm jolt of fire in my chest when I’m stepping out of the shower. Fully washed and changed. Hair thrown to the left side of my head and hanging limply. Totally unprepared for who’s casually waiting for me, now wearing an old t-shirt and cut-off shorts. Unapologetically unshowered. One bare foot propped against a grass stained leg like she’s some kind of flamingo. Head down, looking intently at the phone she’s holding with both hands against her stomach.

“What are you still doing here?”

It’s a low-voiced question despite all sounds indicating the only ones left are paying us no mind. That Tobin, who’s humming I failed to realize drifted away is long since gone. And it holds a deeper inquiry than just ‘why are you waiting for me?’ Asks something more along the jealous thread I’m trying so hard to control despite its buzzing in the back of my brain.

“Tobin said to tell you that your fifteen minutes are up.”

She sounds small. Face still dipped down a bit, despite her eyes dancing periodically up into mine. Like she’s hesitant about this. Like she isn’t sure I’ll be receptive to the attention all of a sudden. It’s a curious thing, really, how in-tune she seems to be with everything that I’m not saying. Curious enough that it sends a chill down my spine.

“Shouldn’t you be…you know?”

All the words are there. Even if they aren’t spoken. And if I wasn’t sure before, I definitely know that she knows that I know now.

“Yeah. I should be.”

She sighs. Blinks heavily for a moment while she gulps and then stands herself up with both feet on the ground. Tucking her phone into her back pocket. Leaving both her hands to hang back there, threaded into the denim.

“So…” I take my own minute. Run my one nervous free hand up into damp hair. Tuck my bundle of clothes, tightly wrapped inside my towel, close to my side with the other. “…what are you waiting for?”

She looks up now. Fully. Eyes leveling with eyes. Breath escaping in a way that acknowledges that, maybe she knows I’m not okay with this. But that’s she’s thankful of the way I’m not running screaming to hills.  

“Just waiting.”

And she sounds so small now. It’s such a strange way to hear her speak. I instantly hate it. Instantly hate the way that I’ve been the cause of this. Me with my impatient brain. With my jealous thread.

And suddenly I get something that hasn’t really occurred to me before even though she’s said it. It was such a quick thing at a time of night when we both should have been sleeping. That none of this is intentional. That she doesn’t want to be balancing the both of us. That maybe she needs time to figure things out instead of feeling like she’s on a spiral of terrible decisions.

“Okay.” And it’s all I really have to give her. But all I want is for it to be a reassurance. I want her to know that at the very least, more than anyone else, I know that I can give her the time to make her own decisions.

That it doesn’t mean anything unless she comes to her decisions freely.

That I want to be a thing she chooses without pressure.

She looks sideways, back and forth. Not nervously now. Not like she’s unsure. Just a confirmation that there aren’t any unwanted observers. That in this moment, where things are so fragile, the only ones around who can make or break things are us.

“I wanted to celebrate with you.”

She takes a single step forward and waits. Body pitched forward in a way that suggests an invitation. My first instinct is to remind her that I invited her. I forcibly push that back.

“I know.”

She waits where she is. Chewing on the inside of that often captured lip. She remains. Her own form of bravery on display.  

“And I still can’t go.”

It’s softer still. Her speech wobbling a bit. Like it’s increasingly difficult for her to get the words out. Like she’s expecting some form of backlash. Like she’s so nervous for it.

And honestly, I don’t blame her. This is the part where I’m sure most people, decent people, break things. This is the part where those people say something like, _what you can and can’t do is entirely up to you._ This is the part where a more rational person would say something like, _I’m not okay with sharing you._

But I’m not those people.

I give her a half step forward. A slowly shifting foot. Moving forward but holding back. Still a length of space between us but enough to let her know I’m out on the thin ice with her.

“So…” It’s practically a whisper now. The last of the voices just around the wall fading away as the locker room door audibly opens and shuts once more. “…why are you here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I'd do better with time. But you wouldn't believe my life. Since we last met I played softball and drank wine with state senators, got into a car accident that wasn't my fault and got the damage repaired, studied my way through like 400 LSAT questions, and managed to find time to binge watch soccer on a Saturday. (hint: that's literally all true).
> 
> Here's to hoping this week finds you in good health after a warm holiday weekend!


	13. The Calm Before the Storm

I know a lot of people who attempt, in the statements that they make, to justify themselves in their actions. To say, despite this thing that they’ve done, or this thing that they’re doing, that _somehow_ they’re not like all those other people who have done the same thing. They attempt, in some kind of strange moral juggling, to place themselves on the high road. To the path with the best image. Despite whatever it is that they’ve done.

Here’s what I’ll say about that.

I am exactly like them. I’m right there saying, I’m not like everyone else. But I’m saying it for entirely different reasons.

I am not like those people who are pushing and pulling for the reactions they want to hear. In fact, I’ll be the first to tell you that this position, this situation that I’m in, is everything I’ve been warned against.

But it’s not like I went seeking it out. It’s not like I specifically made a decision to get wrapped up in an unavailable person. It’s not like I decided without a thought to someone else’s feelings that I wanted to find a way to get tangled up in her. (I didn’t know she unavailable.) So, I don’t exactly feel guilty about this in the ways that I think they would tell me I should.

And now that we’re both already here, the both of us with someone waiting outside those doors for us, I’m realizing at this point I’m somehow just as complicit in this as she is.

I’m the one who’s allowing all of this to happen.

Let’s be clear though, when I’m asking “ _…why are you here?”_ I’m not asking for her justifications. I’m just asking because I’m genuinely curious. (How far down this rabbit hole are we going Alice?)

 “I—“ She starts suddenly and then stops. Looking vaguely uncomfortable all of a sudden. “…I don’t know Em.” She’s not uncomfortable in the situation. It’s a surprisingly honest statement. It’s more a look like she’s uncomfortable not having all the answers.

And the way her voice cracks over my name splinters something in what remains of my hesitance. Has me taking another careful half-step forward. Taking another daring push forward out onto the thin, thin ice that’s supporting us.

“I’m not going to judge whatever it is. You can tell me anything. You could say _anything._ ”

The look she gives is curious. Something a little like cautious optimism. Pursing her lips as she nods slowly. I can just see she the way she’s moved her hands from her back pockets to rest at her side, nervously picking at the skin around one of her thumbs with her index finger.

“I know you won’t.” She says it on a shaky outbreath. Just the slightest rasp of speech that warms my heart in a way that I still can’t explain.

And suddenly I hate the tension that feels as palpable as the humidity in this room. Sticky and unwelcome on the back of my neck.

I want to bend it beneath my hands. I want to break it.

I want to reassure her that there’s nothing wrong here. (I want to reassure myself that I can wait.) That this is such a heavy thing right now, that honestly we can wait to traverse these obstacles.

I’m steeling the courage inside my chest, wrangling it within me to finally do something, to finally be the one to act (Hadn’t I learned my lesson before?) when she takes the last step forward to close the remaining distance between us. Looking at me, eyes locked to eyes, in a way that says all I need to do is say _this isn’t okay_ , for her to stop. ( _It’s beyond okay. It’s entirely welcomed._ ) Those hands that have been so anxiously unmoved finally spring to action. Thread her arms around me in a way that is both vulnerable and increasingly strong. Only now can I feel the way she’s vibrating. Shaking underneath her skin.

She fits her head into the space between my neck and shoulder, breathing hot puffs of air that tickle at the baby hairs on the back of my neck.

It surprises me, leaves me struck silent. I don’t realize the way I simply let the bundle at my side fall instantly and without thought. I don’t realize how easy it is to respond to her movements. Both arms cradling her back without a pause. Thumb rubbing small circles in the space between her shoulder blades.

You see, I could never be the one who tries to justify these actions. Not when it’s this easy, honestly, to fall off the moral highroad when she fits this well to me. It’s easy to say, I’m not like those other people, who’d falsely claim some kind of unknowing posture. The guilty participant in this because how could I not be?

Can you tell me honestly that you wouldn’t be tempted?

“It’s okay Kell. I’m right here.” A heartbeat, a breath, clutching tight chest to chest. A physical representation of everything those words fail to contain. “I’m right here.”

She burrows just a little harder, one hand curling into my shirt near the base of my neck, but it’s still probably the softest hug I’ve ever felt. And we stay like that for far longer than necessary. Until the tiny tremors in her fingers fade away. Until I’m starting to burn where the skin of her curled knuckle in resting unpurposefully against the top of my spine.  Until the tenseness of the moment and the reasons for it fall away.

I know we’re both running desperately thin on time. I’m just waiting for my phone to start vibrating as my father tries to get ahold of me. Or better yet, for Tobin to come bursting through those doors proclaiming that my time has long since been expired and that I need to get my ass moving.

She breathes particularly deep one last time before she shifts, until I can practically feel her lips at the side of my neck and all capability of thought drains away. In such a quick instant this contact is all that’s important.

“You smell good.” She’s basically hummed it, can feel it grumble through her chest, and I’d swear if we weren’t still connected, holding each other up, my knees would be giving out right now. The way I can actually feel her start to smile against me, slow at first but growing. “Like...I don’t know. Clean.”

“That is what a shower will do for you.” I tease. With just the slightest open-mouth smirk. “Not that I don’t appreciate the way you’ve sprayed yourself in Love Spell in an attempt to hide that game winning sweat.”

I don’t ever know how this happens. The way we seem to fall in and out of the serious and teasing. The way we balance between too much and not enough of everything.

She steps away in mock offense, pushing off my shoulder. A heckling shove with the right while the left is clutched close to her chest, scandalized.

“Would you prefer the smell of straight up post-game sweaty and gross Kelley O’Hara? Is _that_ what you’re into?” She’s laughing as she says it, wagging her eyebrows suggestively (coming off a little like an adorable dork).

I return the playful jostle back to the shoulder, just enough to be an in-kind reaction.

“You could, oh I don’t know, think of taking a proper shower? That might also solve that little problem.”

My phone is starting to buzz in my back pocket. Two quick vibrations. Warning sign number one. Incoming danger. A text not a call. I can imagine my father saying something like _You didn’t take this long to get ready when you were at home. What has college been teaching you. Let’s go!_

I move to gather up the bundle of my stuff from the floor while Kelley looks on. While she continues to chuckle lightly.

“Oh _I could.”_ She takes a second to pause while I’m standing back up straight. To make sure I’m distracted by nothing as she makes direct eye contact. As she steps forward again, this time dragging an index finger down the inside of my free forearm. “But I don’t think I’m seeing anyone tonight who’s worth the effort.”

And my heart is up in my throat again. Because somewhere under this sudden shift to playful talk, we’re still having a silent but serious discussion. Somewhere there’s an undercurrent and she’s reading it. She’s directing it.

Suddenly she’s the one reassuring me, however vaguely, as she locks that index finger around my pinky. As the thumb from her other hand comes up to dip my chin, just slightly. To lock me in place. ( _I don’t think I could move if I wanted to.)_ Moving to press those lips I didn’t know I’d been waiting for against mine, teeth tugging ever so slightly on my bottom lip. Left with lungs that refuse to breathe until she steps away again. Before she gathers herself up. Before she leaves me stunned and dumb, blinking quickly while my mouth hangs open.

I’m trying to think of some witty comeback, or to formulate some kind of action that could save me from whatever useless puddle I’ve become, but I think she knows I’m beat. That face of hers is looking like it could turn deadly when I’m unluckily saved. When I hear the locker room door swing open and footsteps come boldly meandering in.

Warning number two. Imminent danger.

“Dude, do I need to worry about your sense of time? You had to of used all the hot water in the entire building. You’ve been taking _FOR-EV-VOR_. I’m starving!” Tobin’s voice echoes from around the corner.

Kelley’s the first to react (this is nothing new), throwing a knowing wink in my direction before she settles back against the wall. Looking entirely at ease by the time Tobin rounds the corner, throwing a pointed look at where I’m still dumbly standing, towel tucked full of clothes under one arm.

Mouth still practically hanging open. The taste of Kelley still on my lips.

Tobin leans against the corner of the wall. Looking somewhat curiously in Kelley’s direction before apparently deciding there’s nothing strange about this. Either uncaring or more preoccupied to acknowledge what this situation looks like. (What this situation is.)

Before going back to looking impatient and hungry.

It’s the look Alex tends to wear on Saturdays when she can’t get Tobin to get out of bed for lunch.

 “Uhhh. Tobs? I was extraordinarily late on the first day? Remember? I thought that would have given away my time management skills?” It’s the only thing I can think of as my brain stutter-starts back into action. Kelley snorts hard once before she’s forced to cover her laugh with a free hand.

Tobin looks at her with narrowed eyes, obviously not as entertained. (She’s probably right. It wasn’t that funny, but Kelley’s laughing has my own face tugging up into a smile. Has me hoping that I can find a way to constrain the warmth threatening to bloom over my cheeks.)

“You alright over there peanut gallery?” Tobin’s finally asking slowly as Kelley sounds choked beneath the muffled laughter.

Kelley waves her off, chuckles still dribbling out.

“Oh no, carry on, please. I was just here for the conversation.” She takes a half skip away from her place at the wall till she comes up even with Tobin.  “But now that I see our little peasant here is in safe company, I’ve got places to be, people to see.”

Tobin rolls her eyes as Kelley thumps her arm a couple of times in quick succession with fake jabs. Then she’s looking down dubiously at her own stomach which grumbles loudly in its own response before turning again to face me.

“Houston we have a problem.” Kelley’s grin over Tobin’s shoulder in my direction is unmistakable.

“And the only cure is _More Cowbell!”_ I can’t help myself as the words spill out. The statement dropping out into the space before I can stop it.

Before I can worry that she won’t get the reference her face lights up in equal proportion to the way Tobin’s seems to fall.

“Oh no. Not you too….”

Tobin’s voice is practically a sigh.

And then all I can do is imagine what her face continues to look like as Kelley and I have soundlessly made the decision to exit the locker room. Both walking quickly outside towards the parking lot under the night sky and the lamplight in the dark. Dancing obscenely as we go. Playing imaginary drums and cowbell. Continuing to quote SNL back and forth at each other as Tobin follows along, for once the one dragging her feet, grumbling about being left behind and out of the band.

\------------------------------------------------

Tobin volunteers to drive. Which is good. Which is spectacular actually. Especially in terms of our health, because my mood is as dampened as my attention is distracted after watching Kelley step up and into a waiting pick-up truck.

But it doesn’t hurt as much as I think that it should. Something about the look in her eye when we part ways. Something about the drag in her step before she spins around to shoot finger guns telling us, _telling me_ , that she’ll text later.

And I want to assure you, I’m not saying I’m okay with it.

No one would be.

What I’m saying is that I’m willing to wait.

And I know there are a million things that I could be talking about right now. I know there are a million things on my mind while Tobin pulls out of the parking lot with parents following behind.

But for a moment, let’s focus on something else. For a moment let’s think about how there’s only this.

Loving Tobin is easy. _Not just now_ , of course. She’s always top of the charts. But, _especially now_. Especially because of these moments of impromptu charm. With a nonchalant grace you can only have if you _actually_ aren’t trying that hard.

Despite her earlier perturbance, she’s got her left leg pulled all the way up so her bare foot rests on the seat. She’s got her left hand index finger drumming lightly on the steering wheel while she scrolls through an old iPod with the right. She bounces between a couple songs (never more than 10 seconds) before she finally settles on something that I presume is old, but that I can’t quite identify. Humming along until she turns her head abruptly, catching my full attention.

“You ever talk to Alex?”  

My stomach sinks, because duh the answer is _No._  Not when I was so preoccupied. Not when my attention was on someone who was decidedly not named Alex. But it doesn’t make sense to make an excuse with her. She doesn’t sound accusing, more curious. 

“Uh, no….”

She just nods vaguely, drumming her fingers again briefly.

“Maybe that’s for the best. She was…well. _Stupid_ worked up over nothing earlier—” She pauses suddenly, like she had something else in mind to say but that she suddenly wants to backtrack. “I mean, I’m not wrong right? That was totally not me before the game?”

And it’s literally the most adorable thing to see her worry like this. To see her worry about whether or not she was some kind of contributing factor.

“Tobin. She couldn’t find her _pre-wrap_. That’s not on you.”

She sighs satisfactorily. Something that says _I know, I just wanted to make sure_.

“Yeah. Yeah. It can’t only have been the pre-wrap though. I mean, even she’s not that sensitive.”

And I’m nodding in agreement before I even realize what I’m doing. Realizing, in a certain kind of sudden spark that _Yes,_ _I do actually know her well enough to make that judgement._

“Kelley’s Guy…thing was here tonight? Could that have set her off?”

It’s weird to talk about like this. With a precision awareness of how I need to keep a certain sound of distance. A surgical awareness of what needs to be cut out of this dialogue.

“Yeah maybe, that could probably do it. Alex has been complaining about Kel being…weird or something lately. Maybe it has something to do with it. I don’t know.”

It’s a throwaway sentence. It’s such an informal line for her. Like something she’s just mentioning in passing. Which makes it all the more vital (all the more difficult) to seem entirely unphased. Unaware while my heart is slithering out somewhere between my fourth and fifth ribs to land on the floor mat somewhere.

Because maybe it’s about Justin. That’s always a distinct possibility.

Or maybe it’s about me.

And I have no idea how to handle that situation.

“I haven’t noticed anything.”

She nods affirmatively and it breaks something small inside of me. Something that says _how do you lie to her of all people._ So readily trusting and having no idea of the way I’m beginning to tear at that honest fabric.

I _need_ a change of subject. ASAP.

“So. My dad.”

Tobin’s fiddling with the iPod again but she looks up grinning.

“Oh I’m so ready. As the first to get the privilege of his company, I’m totally going to be his favorite by the end of the night.”

And this, this is better. This subject that drags away from darker more dangerous topics. This is honest and light and everything I need it to be.

“Tobs, seriously, I think he likes you more than me and I’m his daughter.”

She just laughs and shrugs. Like it’s no big thing. But I can feel the energy she’s radiating. How much she enjoys that fact.

“Can’t help that I’m such a good influence.”

So you see, with a million other things that I could be thinking about (Where’s Alex? Is that paper due Wednesday or Thursday? Where do black pickup trucks go on weekends? Did I get all my library hours?) it’s easy to settle on this.

It’s easy to love Tobin.

And with everything feeling so unnecessarily complicated, it’s easy to love the way it all feels so simple with her around.

\--------------------------------------------------

Dinner goes better than I could have hoped for. In every aspect. Like most things lately though, it’s not due to my presence. Not that mom and dad aren’t _absolutely delighted_ to see me. My mother grills me over grades and class attendance, my father over the game.

For something brand new, it feels like old hat. Like this is routine. (In a way it is. Change the wording and it’s no different than high school.)

But more than what they can glean from me, they fawn over Tobin.  Over her brilliant influence. The way in which she seems to navigate everything with a kind of ease. While she smiles and laughs and says all the right things because that really is just who she is.

And honestly, who didn’t think that it would happen. Who didn’t realize my father would continue to fall deeper into _she’s a good egg_ territory, while they talked, mouths both half full of what Tobin proclaimed to be the best burger on this side of town. As he wrangled stories out of her from our first few weeks. Things as simple as all the extra training sessions to the time I taped a chair to Kelley’s ceiling. Particular emphasis on our first day of on-field practice when Becky _, who was demonstrating,_ made a clean tackle and I ended up eating actual grass. Things that maybe not every parent would thoroughly enjoy, but my father certainly would.

Even my mother loved her, despite Tobin’s lack of formal table manners that always earns me a motherly side eye. Or at the very least she was brilliantly enthralled with Tobin’s intention to play professionally rather than _get a real job._ As though she’d never considered that soccer would be an actual option. As though we’d never ever brought that conversation up in our own home. (Always the critical half of the parenting duo. Always the one who wants a firm and _realistic_ back-up plan.)

So when dinner ends and my parents finally choose to make their way back to their hotel before leaving back out in the morning to head home, I’m honestly overjoyed.

With a clear mind.

With a full, full heart.

Capped with the way Tobin doesn’t just drop me at my dorm with a fist bump, a smile, and a wave. The way she doesn’t just kick along her ball as she continues her own way back. Whether she knows how I could use the company or not, she stays with me, kicking the ball back and forth for what feels like hours. (I really don’t make it back to my room until after 2 a.m.) Learning and attempting new tricks while we laugh at every other student who pass us on their way out dressed to the nines for a Friday night. We snicker as they wander back into the building hours later, cheeks flushed and eyes hazy, barefoot with heels in hand.

In a way I hadn’t expected, it’s all easy.

Even falling asleep. The sudden fallout that comes while counting the speckles of the ceiling tiles in a room far too quiet.

It’s like there’s something in the air.

Something I can’t quite seem to place.

And I’m already well asleep before I can even begin to think about how it’s like the calm before something big threatens to break.

\-------------------------------------------------

I’ve started to rate the quality of the days in terms of my cups of coffee.

Saturday was a blissful and proper (oversized) single latte over the mountain of homework I needed to tackle in-between a nap and a cupcake run with Lindsey and Sam. Sunday was 2 cups of meal plan provided coffee from the Union, sweetened with all the sugar and cinnamon I could find on hand. Which should have been disgusting, but actually turned out relatively palatable.

Today though? Today is different. 

The coffee in the Student Union is sub-par at the best of times. We’ve discussed this before in passing. This, however, is not the best of times. Don’t ask me how I’ve done it, but I’m running late between my 9 a.m. that let out fifteen minutes early and my 10 a.m that never starts until 5 after.

Today is a single cup of thick, black tar cowboy coffee. The kind you only get because the need for caffeine is overwhelming and you’re willing to sell your soul to get it.

It’s bitter and dark and tastes stale.

Which probably matches the look on my professor’s face when she sees me sliding in as quietly as I’m able to take an entirely unfamiliar back row seat. Especially if her high arched eyebrow and mid-sentence cut-off as she watches me take said seat is any indicator.

I’m certainly a deep shade of crimson by the time she continues on. Picking up where she left off on…looks like a lesson on the value of argument structure in preparing our first major essay.

Awesome.

Which means, even though I have in fact bothered showing up, I’m prepared to pay absolutely zero attention. Something the back row, which up until this point I have not had the pleasure of experiencing, provides ample cover for.

I’ve got my phone in my lap, keyed into a conversation that started well before I even began the atrocious task that is ingesting my coffee. 

               ‘ _I need to pick some things up at the store, are any of you free to come with?’_

Alex who, after disappearing post-Friday game, has been incredibly interested in attaining the time and presence of the group as a whole.

               _‘I’m in class. Where are you going and when?’_

Kelley is the first to answer, though it’s somewhat surprising. I’d have figured she would have talked to Al this morning.

_‘After class. And I haven’t decided yet.’_

There’s a host of ellipses that disappear on and off. A thought or a sentence written, once, twice, thrice.

               _‘Can’t go this time. My project partner wants to meet right after. Sorry.’_

Somewhere in the background my professor starts into the importance of a Thesis statement as a roadmap for the argument. Considering I already have the essay half-written that we’re learning this for, thanks to our upcoming game schedule, I continue to feel no need for listening.

_‘My class lets out at 11 and I have nothing after that till practice? I’ll go with you on the condition that we stop somewhere to get a real coffee.’_

Alex replies almost instantaneously.

_‘Oh god. You got coffee from the SU didn’t you. We warned you Sonny.’_

I can’t help the way I’m rolling my eyes. Because yeah, of course they did. But when it’s necessary, you do what you have to do.

               _‘Oh shut it. Yes or no?’_

My phone vibrates again, but the message doesn’t show in the group chat. Instead Kelley’s name flashes across the top. Individually. I debate looking at it, but choose to wait for Alex’s answer first.

‘ _Yeah. That works for me. You get out earlier than I do. Meet me at my car. You know where it’s parked.’_

_‘Will do. Guess I should pay attention to this riveting discussion on how to write a paper in the meantime.’_

I have no intention on listening to my professor. But Alex doesn’t need to know that. None of them do really. No one except the sender of the message I haven’t yet looked at.

               _‘Pay attention in class Sonn! I’ll tell your mom! ;)’_

_‘I’m coming too Al! I’ll walk with you from your class.’_

Of course Tobin would pop up. Would have me rolling my eyes harder than I even thought possible.

               _‘Leave my mother out of this Tobs!’_

               ‘ _I’ll tell your dad then! You know we’re besties now :) He’ll see my side of things.’_

I decide she’s not worth the response. That I’ll get back to that conversation later. In person. When I can actually do something about Tobin’s newfound familiarity with my family. Choose instead to skim over to what’s been waiting, not so patiently for me to see.

               _‘You were supposed to say no.’_

Let’s just say the rate of my confusion elevates at an equal, if not exponential, rate to my boredom from sitting in this room.

               _‘Care to explain what you’re talking about?’_

The ellipses pop up almost instantly. An indicator that someone’s obviously been paying extremely close attention to something I’ve let sit to wait.

It almost makes me feel just a little bit bad about it.

               _‘I don’t have a project partner. I don’t have a project. You were supposed to say no to Alex.’_

Here’s the thing. I’m still not following. And I can’t decide if I’m just a little slow or if she’s doing a terrible job at explaining.

_‘Why?’_

I can see the way she starts and stops writing. The way it sparks to life and then dies as she’s obviously wiping out what she’s had to say.

And then without warning it drops silent.

And I wonder if this anxiety is what Kelley felt while she waited for my response.

I’m not answered by a text message though. I’m not dragged into the all-knowing light by a clearer response. Instead, my attention is dragged away from my phone entirely.

And I’m not sure what exactly does it. If it’s a sound. If it’s a feeling. If it’s the hairs on the back of my neck rising in the all familiar way.

But there’s Kelley, standing out of view of the professor but straight in line with me. Signaling in no uncertain terms to meet her in the hallway.

And call me a terrible student if you want. Tell me all about how coach wouldn’t approve if she found out. But we all know what happens next.

We all know I do.

\-------------------------------------------------

Her fingers are gentle but her grip is firm. The way she latches onto my elbow the minute we are out of view of the door. Tugging incessantly down one hallway and hanging a right. Pulling the both of us into a small alcove. The home of three ancient vending machines.

“Em. You’re an idiot.”

She says it like a little like a child might as she finally releases my arm to hold her hands to her hips. A little like how a toddler might whine when they’ve had their favorite toy taken and they want it back.

And if she didn’t sound that way. If she didn’t look so ridiculous with her face of what I might call misery, I’d be offended.

Not that I actually take what she’s said to heart. If she isn’t teasing you she doesn’t like you all that much. But mostly because I’m still confused.

“Hello there Kell. Nice to see you after a long weekend. Would you like to say anything else about me before you take the time to actually explain yourself?”

I waste no time in responding. Pulling both arms in across my chest, eyebrow quirked and waiting for a response.

It takes a second. A quickdraw stare down where we’re gauging each other. And It’s funny the way I see her face break. The way I see her come to realize that I’m not playing any part; that I’m genuinely confused. And then she softens entirely, sighing in a way I thought they only did in really dramatic moments on television while she drops her eyes to the floor.

And I’m about to say something else (what exactly I couldn’t tell you) when those eyes drag their way back up as she takes a step forward. As she pushes herself straight into any kind of reasonable personal space. As she draws close, one hand firm on my shoulder, the other gently dragging across my neck as she pulls me in.

As she makes every coherent thought fall straight out from the space between my ears.

It only lasts a second but she doesn’t pull away. Not entirely. Our faces hovering so close together. Her nose still practically resting next to mine.

“Confession.” It’s so soft. It’s practically a whisper. “I missed you.”

And suddenly there’s a knot developing in my stomach. A warmth and a shiver. A rising and a plunging. And I’m not sure how that describes what it feels like, but it does.

“I missed you too Kell.”

Which isn’t a lie. Which is the honest truth. Which is wholeheartedly the most terrifying thing I could admit to someone who could so easily leave me behind.

She doesn’t say anything though. She doesn’t somehow break that precious fragile thread. Somehow she weaves it into the fabric of her. The way she presses forward once again, both of us eyes falling closed. The hand on my shoulder creeps slowly down. Elbow to forearm, wrist to hand, until finally, tentatively her thumb grazes and then rests on the outside of my hip. Her teeth tug once more at my lip, finding just the right way to strike a shiver down my spine.

When she pulls away this time, it’s needless to say I’m running something close to sensory overload. And when my eyes finally meet hers from where they’ve been waiting, she just smiles.

“I just wanted to spend time with you. I was going to steal you away after class but then you let Alex steal you away instead.”

She says it so knowingly this time. Like she understands that this whole time I was asking for the obvious answer I was blind to see.

“Uhm.” I swallow hard from where I’m at to gather myself. Where somehow my hands have found their way to hang dumbly, limply at my sides. (All I want is to find a way to land them on her.) I blink a few times in a way that only makes her smile wider. “Maybe you haven’t realized I can be just a little bit blind? I mean I thought that we’d established this but I guess not. Next time you should forewarn me.”

The smile she’s wearing takes an angle. Turns itself into a grin as her eyes narrow.

“Next time huh?”

The thumb on my hip readjusts. Makes me all the more aware of the way she’s got me held in place. (In more ways than one.) And there’s something about it that triggers the desire for equal footing. That makes me want to do something with these awkward hands of mine. That have me, for once, moving without a single thought to consequence. Ignoring the way anyone could walk past this alcove. Fingers hooking through the loops in her shorts, tugging. Forcing her just slightly off balance.

She has to take a step forward to correct herself. (Something I might have thought about.) Has to find a way to balance herself. Has her gripping hard against me as my back lands against one of the machines.

Her look of surprise melts quickly. Reforms itself into something far more distinct. Something far more like desire.

“If you’d want one.” It’s a whisper back but it’s mangled in the rasp I’ve somehow developed. It’s smothered in a dark pitch that’s all new to me.

“If?” She rolls her eyes and sighs for what must be comic effect before her features morph straight back into that devilish grin. “What about…tonight?”

It has me gulping. Hard. But not backing down. No matter the effect of the shiver those words cause.

“What about it?”

She narrows her eye slightly before losing the dark features of her face. Before pressing her lips to mine, more innocently than she has yet for the simplest of pecks. Before stepping away entirely to gather herself normally.

It takes me longer than I’m willing to admit to figure out it’s a tease.

“How about…we watch a movie?” She cocks her head just slightly, faux innocence, before continuing. “Purely Innocent. I promise.” She holds both hands up for emphasis.

And before I realize what I’m doing, before I take the time to think anything at all, I can feel my head nodding. Agreeing before ever giving myself another option.

And she’s tangling our fingers together while she smiles. While she pulls me close enough to wrap both arms around me. Close enough to whisper in my ear.

“Can’t wait.”

The way her lips find a way to just graze the skin there. The hot rush of blood there as my legs threaten to cave.

And this, maybe more than anything else has me realizing that I’m in some kind of trouble here. That there might well be a storm coming, but we’re well past the calm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're all more patient than I deserve.  
> Please, let me know what you think.


	14. Nothing Like a Faulty Warning Bell

Kelley leaves on the back of a careful promise to meet up later and I find myself sliding down the wall, waiting outside of my classroom door, legs finally crumpling. Waiting for my professor to finish her spiel on excellent essay writing (that I learned in high school) before sneaking back in, dodging the herd of students who are just as thankful to be free of the monotony, and grabbing the belongings I’d carelessly left behind.  Slipping lithely around the eyes of my professor who, in all likelihood, would probably melt me to a puddle on the spot, if she noticed me for interrupting her lecture twice.

(I won’t deny the way I’m hoping she’ll simply forget that I’m officially the most disruptive student of the day.)

It isn’t my proudest moment.

But there’s still a heavy pounding in the cage of my chest that tells me that all of this is worth it. A reverberation up the ladder of my spine. A throbbing of blood with each heavy heartbeat as it courses through the web of veins in my neck. A definitive thumping that I’m sure can be heard by anyone who would pass by. A drumbeat that continues despite the fact that Kelley’s eyes have long since dragged themselves away to wherever she hides herself on afternoons.

And Pride? Well, let’s just say, that’s not exactly something that I’m going to let hold me back.

_‘Class let out early. We’re on the way to my car. Hurry or no coffee for you!’_

Alex’s (not-so) gentle text kickstarts my frantic pace to escape the building after gathering my things. The coffee I have, which was barely ingestible prior to class, is basically sludge inside the sad looking SU to-go cup now.

It doesn’t take a lot of contemplation to throw it out. (Or any at all really.)

I’m not upset about it though. Not in the way that I would have been an hour ago when I had gotten it in my caffeine desperation, up to my neck in exhaustion. Whether I can really say that it’s the high hopes for Alex’s promised bribery cup though is debatable.

Honestly, I think I’m realizing that it’s definitely a second option.

While I’m hightailing it at breakneck walking speed to the lot by Alex’s dorm, nearly bowling through a chattering group outside of the library on accident, I’m realizing that it has a lot more to do with the now relative little need I have for caffeine. That each of my nerves is still standing on end. Like I’ve just weathered an electrical storm. Like maybe Kelley might be more than enough of a wake-up call on her own to prop my once overly tired eyes open. That maybe something as simple as a pair of lips casually (not so casually) brushing my ear is all it takes to feel overly alive. To feel like I’ve mainlined a truckload of Red Bull.

To feel like I’m on fire.

And all I can hope for, as Alex and Tobin come into view, all I can try to do, is contain myself. As they wave and yell that surely at my age I can walk faster than that, I have to smother the way I feel like I’m bouncing outside of my skin in anticipation. Because if it wasn’t sinking in before; if it wasn’t registering in my over-fired synapses previously, while I was unfairly cornered and overexposed, it’s definitely settling in now.

That Kelley’s made plans.

That she’s made them with _me_.

And it doesn’t matter how sickly sweet and innocent she tries to play. It doesn’t matter what proclamations she makes or actions she takes.

_Everyone knows what watching a movie means._

\------------------------------------------------

It hits me between the coffee shop and the first store, while I’m taking my first sips of an overly sugared caramel masterpiece sent down from heaven and Alex is overenthusiastically belting out Britney Spears with the windows down to embarrass Tobin, that perhaps I’ve made a grave miscalculation. That perhaps I hadn’t exactly thought through all the necessary details. That I might have forgotten to consider a few important things and now there’s a distinct flaw in the plans that I hadn’t accounted for.

Not that it’s my fault.

Not that I was even the one to make the suggestion.

(I only agreed as any rational person would do in the situation.)

The point is though, that wanting to watch a movie is all well and good, _pure intentioned or not,_ but that it might also help to actually have a place to do so. And while we’re sitting at a stoplight on our way to stock up on pre-wrap (that has magically vanished without a trace) and whatever else we find that’s interesting, with Alex teasingly singing _at_ Tobin while a car full of fraternity boys is laughing in the car beside us, I realize with startling clarity that we don’t have one. That the only space I can think of that we have, happens to be either inhabited by these goofballs, or my own roommate.

“Al. Come on.”

Tobin has a creeping shade of red that’s crawling up her neck that only deepens as the seconds pass by. A definite discomfort that’s only making itself more pronounced.

“ _What’s Practical is logical, what the hell, who cares? All I know is I’m so happy when you’re dancing there—“_

I haven’t seen Alex this gleeful since last week when the Student Union had these buffalo chicken wraps she ended up raving about all day. And I definitely have no explanation for what seems to the generally overjoyed mood she’s exuding now. But she’s bobbing in time to the beat and prodding Tobin’s shoulder in a way that says _Come on Tobs, you know you wanna join me_. And honestly, it all looks just slightly like a poorly choreographed car routine (which makes me vaguely wonder if this is actually a casual occurrence).

“Alex. _Please._ ” Tobin’s full on pouting now, playing with the stitching on her shorts. All but begging for an exemption from the karaoke dance party.

Alex just tilts her head casually and pauses the music. One eyebrow quirked _just so._ Lips tugging in just the right way to make the perfect pleading face. Unconcerned for the light which is about to flip back to green. It’s by far the most manipulative face I’ve ever seen her wear. ( _And does she wear it well_.)

Tobin sighs hard. Basically squirming in her seat. Shoulders simultaneously sagging and contorting to the only proper position for one who’s about to sing unapologetically terrible. Or, more simply, what I’m saying is I’m recognizing the early signs of defeat.

“With Em here?” She finally squeaks out.

And it’s a little funny now, to realize that maybe she’s completely okay with Alex’s behavior, she just might be a little embarrassed by the new audience member. That this painfully obvious routine is something that they don’t seem to actively share with others. Though, apparently, Alex shows no sympathy or hesitance as she flutters her eyelashes dramatically instead.

Tobin’s head falls back against the headrest and her pout deepens. Her last resistances are failing. I can see Alex’s fingers twitching as she starts to grin. When Tobin finally sits back up, she hits the play button.

“ _OH, I’MA SLAVEEE—“_

As Alex starts to rocket back into top volume, her phone begins to ring, promptly cutting her off. To my complete and utter disappointment (because honestly, while Tobin was pouting I was gearing up to join in despite being unasked). Though, it should be noted, that two observations stick out. The first, I’ve never seen Tobin look quite so relieved as she does when Alex spins the volume dial all the way down (and I make a mental note that maybe Tobin needs to know I’m perfectly okay with entirely awkward ridiculousness). The second, I’ve never seen Alex look quite so eager to stop all activity for a voice at the other end of a phone call. 

Which, I would think, means she was expecting it to come at some point. Was potentially waiting with baited breath (or whatever Alex’s version of apprehension is), and there are only a few people I can think of that could fit that stipulation. Traditionally, I’m not a betting girl. I don’t tend to like losing on a chance. But this time? I’d be willing to bet what’s left of my coffee that it’s Servando by the sudden glow she gets.

Call me old fashioned, but I do my best to tune their conversation out. To actively pretend as though I can’t hear any of it. Tobin jokingly catches my eye from the rearview mirror as they talk. Fakes a gag and an eye roll that I definitely appreciate while I continue inhaling straight caffeine and sugar.

But I can’t drown it all out.

I can’t keep my ears willfully shut when words I didn’t think possible come pouring out. When, as we pull into the parking lot, catching a front row spot near the doors, Alex moves to break conversation. When she grins and she glows and she tells him “she can’t wait to see him later.”

Which makes me wonder a lot of things all at once. Like if I can really be that lucky. If I could really have this solution fall unwittingly into my lap at a time like this. If this isn’t the most fortunate of things to have ever happened when I’ve needed it to.

And finally, _finally_ , debating just how much Kelley knew when she started making plans.

Just how _spontaneous_ that invitation actually was.

And suddenly I’m sweating in a way that has absolutely nothing to do with the heat of the fall sun on our walk inside.

In a way that has _everything_ to do with whether Kelley intends for this to be _innocent_ at all.

\--------------------------------------------------------

I don’t always get things right the first time. (Or maybe even the second if I’m being exceptionally slow.) But I’ve never been one to not learn a lesson if it’s thrown in my lap. I never let the opportunity for a second chance at getting a thing _exactly_ right pass me by.

(Well, maybe _never_ is hyperbole. But that’s an argument for another day.)

In this case, the lesson is _Keeping my Mouth Shut to Alex Morgan_.

I’ve got Kelley’s voice whispering up my spine and down through my ears as I resist every internal urge to ask, directly, about whether she’ll be in her room tonight. A smattering of freckles accompanying the upticked eyebrow that rests just behind my eyelids causes the battle against my impulse to inquire, with no sense of subtlety, about whether she’ll be present or absent.

It doesn’t even register why I’m so worried about what Alex would think about the question. It doesn’t even dawn on me why I should be worried about her knowing Kelley and I are spending time together without her that doesn’t involve soccer.

Or, at the very least, _I’ll keep telling myself that_.

At the very least, I won’t be asking that question.

We do manage to get back to the campus though, with pre-wrap and new shoes for Alex, with a new hat for Tobin. And me? What did I bring back in reward for my trip? (At least besides the bribery coffee long since past.) Well I’ve brought back the idea that what I might be able to do is ask questions _around_ the subject and still get what I want.

An idea at which imaginary-Kelley-in-my-head agrees heartily.

“So, Al…”

She shuts the door to her car with a hip check and looks up expectantly as we start walking towards the dorms. Her bag full of pink rolls clutched in one hand with her keys. The box of shoes clutched tight to her hip with the other. We all need to drop off our things and grab our soccer bags before we can head to the field for practice.

“So, Sonnett?”

She’s all smiling eyes and teasing tones and it’s almost so happy that it strikes me as a little disturbing. A little out of her character considering these past few days. Missing all the usual traces of annoyance I’ve been growing used to.

“How’s Serv?”

Her lips curl instantly to match what the rest of her has been saying all along. It _is_ different, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like it. Doesn’t mean I’m not equally happy that she’s excited about something. Makes it a little easier, a little more natural to press for more information.

“Oh, He’s great!”

But I don’t follow it up. Not right away. I don’t screw it up by saying something more than is necessary. I let it sit. Let it simmer. Even if it’s only for a moment. I can feel the tempo of conversation radiating from the glow she’s exuding. The way she’s got more she could say hanging just on the tip of her tongue.

“He just turned in this huge project or something and apparently his classes got cancelled for tomorrow like he thought they might, so he’s pretty happy.”

She doesn’t blink an eye at my question. Is spilling details exactly the way that I had hoped that she would. Which is encouraging to say the least. Which means I can press a little more. A harder angle for more direct results.

“That’s it? The way you were talking on the phone I’d have sworn that you’d won the lottery together. Not that he just got a little break in classes.”

She dips her head in an uncharacteristically shy way. In a way that seems a little foreign for her, but that isn’t off-putting. _Humanizing_ maybe.

“Oh dear Sonny, you don’t understand. Our girl here’s in _Love!_ ”

Tobin finally pipes up from where she’s been walking behind us. Proudly wearing her new hat despite a tag still hanging off it. Entirely unaffected as she bobs happily along.

“Oh shut it Tobs.” Alex hitches her step back to swat Tobin on the arm, but she stays smiling.

And here’s the thing. You remember when I waxed poetic about loving Tobin? About her nonchalant grace; about how easy she is to be around; how simple and unnecessarily complicated she is. Well here’s a moment I hope that you can see the full effect of why.

Because with a wink and a grin behind Alex’s turned back, Tobin signals my attention.

“She just doesn’t want to admit _that she’s sneaking off campus tonight to see him._ ”

And here’s where I know that it’s true. That it isn’t just some offhand comment to rile Alex up. She can’t even smother the smile on her face as she play punches Tobin again in the arm. She can’t stop the way she’s practically ducking her head in embarrassment.

“ _Thanks Tobs._ So much for keeping it quiet. At this rate Coach will find out by lunch and I’ll be in her office for not setting a good example to the freshman about attending class and doing work and _getting to sleep on time_. Whatever that means.” 

But she’s not really snapping at her. No, she’s tilting her head back, rolling her eyes, and open mouth grinning.  She’s definitely not actually annoyed. Not even close.

She’s on the verge of bragging if I had to guess.

(If I had to bet.)

“What are you doing sneaking off campus Al?” And I hope that the curious tone seems like purely friendly curiosity. Like I’m interested in gossip. Like I’ve got absolutely no extra motivations behind it.

She swivels her head my way. Only the slightest traces of pink on her cheeks. Obviously far more accustomed to being the center of attention than I would be. The shade of red I’d be wearing would settle on the inhuman.

“Well. He was already thinking about it. But since his classes got cancelled he’s coming to visit. Said he booked a hotel room downtown. He wanted to celebrate the win from Friday since he couldn’t be here for it in person.”

First. Color me surprised. No pun intended. _And maybe a little jealous_. Because that’s literally adorable and just _way too much_ for this early in the school year.

Second. My mind is racing. Trying to figure out if Kelley has had this information tucked into her sleeves this entire time. If she’s actually been exceptionally sly and I’m unintentionally ruining a surprise.

I’m a little undecided on whether I should feel bad about anything I may have ruined or if I should just feel proud of my sleuthing skills. Wondering, in the most offhand way, if Kelley would be more upset or proud.

“Well isn’t that just…overly romantic.”

Not that I believe that. I’ve already admitted some jealousy. But by now I’ve come to realize it isn’t a proper conversation if we aren’t mocking her somehow. 

Rather than the typical witty comeback though, rather than her usual willful behavior as she plows through convention, she just winks at me. Causes my stomach to sink at this shift. As she readjusts the contents in her hands and looks straight at me.

“We’ll find you someone Em. No worries.”

And I’m hoping the blood doesn’t drain from my face the way it must drain from my fingertips as my stomach drops entirely. As I laugh it off. As I roll myself into nonchalant behavior that I don’t actually feel at all. Because I’m not supposed to be the one at the center of attention.

Imaginary-Kelley-in-my-head holds a soft finger over her lips. Hushing me into silence on the subject.

“Yeah, yeah. Plenty of time for that Al.”

As I compound the lie.

“No changing the subject Alex! Divulge all your secret plans to us.”

And then there’s Tobin. Unknowing Tobin balancing the conversation. Rescuing me from something I don’t entirely know how to navigate. Earning her place once again at the top of my list of favorite people.

“Well since you asked so nicely…”

And I know that tone of Alex’s. As she dips her voice and embraces the typical rasp. That what’s about to come from her lips is going to be entirely too much information. That she’s been successfully redirected and I’m safe to drift back into my own head. To focus on first calming my heart, and second on living in anticipation. 

As we drift towards where our paths separate, each to their own dorms, I catch Tobin’s soft smile. A smile that could mean anything but that at least for the moment I choose to believe is _you owe me, I saved you._

And I do. I do owe her. But for now, for now, I have other more important things to think about.

\-----------------------------------------------------

We don’t end up riding back to the field together. Which I won’t say is intentionally avoiding any possibility of further conversation danger. But I won’t deny it either.

I end up letting them know I’m catching a ride over with Sam and Lindsey who I run into on my way through the dorm lobby. (Who whined and complained about having to wait all of three minutes for me to run to my room and back to swap bags. Class books for soccer bag.) Which they accept with a simple ‘see you there then!’

Sam and Lindsey, for their part, are quiet in comparison. They’ve apparently still got overfull stomachs from eating Chipotle for lunch and are still waking up from a nap. In comparison, the locker room is loud by the time we get there. Which is nothing unusual really. We’re still a little early and almost everyone that’s actually here at the moment is still taking their time getting ready. Talking in groups about classes this morning, changing shoes, pulling hair up. A brave few even snacking despite not knowing if this is a heavy cardio day.

Tobin and Alex aren’t here yet, obviously taking their time.

Over the music playing out of Crystal’s phone though, I can just hear Kelley’s voice the instant we open the door. Can hear her from where she’s talking in an animated hush with Allie.

“—Allie. You oweeeeee meee. It’s time for you to pay up!”

The whine is childish, but endearing. The exact amount of eager and wanting necessary to elicit a chuckle and a tug on the heart.

“I know Kell, but that wasn’t the price we agreed on. Why can’t I just get you the bag of skittles I owe you?”

Kelley doesn’t seem to give in though. As I’m dropping my stuff at my locker, apparently unobserved as of yet, she tries again.

“But I don’t want skittles anymore. And Bati will understand if you call him a little late because you’re giving me a ride.”

To which I am instantly curious about. Am interested beyond what I can properly convey. Because, for one, Kelley doesn’t change her mind about skittles. I know for a fact she was intending to use that bag to flavor a cheap six-pack of Smirnoff that she’d won off Ashlyn last week. And for two, why does she need a ride from Allie of all people?

I, however, will apparently never know. Because of course, as these things go, it’s in that instant while I’m dropping my keys as softly as possible onto the upper shelf of my locker that Kelley notices my arrival.

I can almost physically see the way she seems to question how much I’ve heard by the narrowing of her eyes before she decides the coast is apparently clear. Before she breaks into a soft, subtle smile. Before she takes advantage of Allie digging through her bag for something to wink in my direction. Flashing a thumbs up and then miming texting at me before burying herself into their conversation in a way that actually would pass as secrecy.

It leaves me a little off balance. A little paranoid (though I don’t know about what).  Considering what exactly Kelley is conning out of Allie. Considering what other tricks she may have up her sleeve that I’ve yet to uncover.

It’s a major distraction even while I move to try and tie my own shoes.

An action which, I end up finding, Lindsey seems to take an offhand notice of.  Wearing a quirked eyebrow and a questioning smirk. Something that, unfortunately doesn’t tell me how long she’s been watching.

What I do know though, know without a doubt, is that I’m definitely not going to be having the greatest of practice days.

In fact, what I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, is that my head is going to be anywhere but on the field today.

My thoughts are going to be entirely distracted by her.

\-------------------------------------------------

Dinner, after field work, is mediocre. Everyone’s legs are beat. With travel for our next game coming up, and the need for proper recovery time, Coach had decided today was going to be heavy on the endurance work. That we’d have enough time to get back to feeling right so long as we did the work today.

Sadly, chicken stir-fry never tastes nearly as great when you’ve still got the lingering taste of a raging stomach in your mouth.

What sticks out more though, is the strange nature of it all. Normally, what ends as a full team free-for-all as we all try and grab enough food to satisfy us before we get cleaned up, is only a small affair. Alex is absent (a presence I planned to be missing). The juniors of the team are apparently off doing something or other (I didn’t bother to pick up on all the details) which accounts for Tobin who’s also missing. But the other one, the shifty one with all her apparent plans, who’s company I was looking forward to, is absent.

Instead of a clarifying conversation over what our plans are tonight, what I get is Sam, Lindsey, Morgan, Alyssa, and I packed tightly around a table. While Morgan and Alyssa talk quietly to each other between bites, the rest of us choose instead to simply focus on our food.

Food is life of course. But it’s also the best distraction.

               ‘ _Had to run an errand. When did you want to meet up later?’_

Of course she catches me mid-bite. Of course I’m staring at the message with the fork still hanging from my teeth. Drawing another eyebrow raise from Lindsey.

               _‘Uh, doesn’t matter to me? I was a productive student this weekend and all my work is done.’_

When it flashes read but doesn’t indicate a response, I immediately start to think of something else to say. Set my fork down this time, to Lindsey’s amusement, before continuing.

               _‘I was just going to get cleaned up and lay down in my room probably. You could just let me know when you’re back?’_

This time, the reply is almost instant. Startlingly so maybe. It only gives me the barest of seconds to realize that Lindsey’s hiding a growing smirk around a bite of her food as she chews.

               _‘That’s perfect. I’ll let you know.’_

Her reply isn’t endearing. It isn’t cute, or sweet, or teasing, or romantic. It’s matter-of-fact and it’s to the point. So, I don’t know exactly what it is, but something about those words has me suddenly so nervous all over again. My cheeks are flashing crimson, heating up as my heart pounds an extra beat. Just another of those irrational reactions over a few of her words that say _nothing_. Nervous anticipation firing up all over again.

Or maybe it’s that it has me remembering exactly what I’m probably getting myself into tonight.

(I’m suddenly not so hungry anymore.)

I end up pushing around the last fourth of my dinner with my fork before foregoing the attempt to finish it. I end up abandoning it in the trash as I decide to make my way back to my room with a quick acknowledgement to the dinner group.

“Hold up Em! I’m coming too.”

Lindsey jogs up stiffly from behind to fall in step as we make our way back to toward Wick Hall.

“Where’s Sam?”

She laughs and shrugs.

“You know how she is. Said she had some kind of paper due on Friday that she absolutely has to get turned in today. She’s going to the library.”

I can’t help but scrunch my nose up at that. At the idea that Sam is postponing a shower for any length of time after today, even if it’s for homework, is generally disgusting. I can barely stand myself. But, knowing the way I’ll be scrambling to finish mine the day before it’s due is enough to give it a second thought.

“She can finish mine while she’s at it.”

Lindsey nods like she’s all for the idea of passing off her work. Then, with a clearing of her throat she decides to abruptly change topics.

“So…that thing we talked about before.”

I should have known, should have seen this coming. Should have figured after all the moments she’s let things go that this was coming at some point. That when she got me alone it would happen.

“What about it?”

It’s just a bit hesitant. Trying, with all due consideration, not to encourage her with anything she isn’t already thinking.

“It’s happening, isn’t it? You made a choice.”

I also should have figured that she wouldn’t waste any time beating around the bush. And I should have figured that she’d already know. That she would have picked up on all the signs. That she was simply buying time before she approached me.

I can see it all over her face, her open assuredness and curiosity as I swipe my card and open the door for the residence hall.

“…Maybe. I don’t know. We’re still…figuring things out.”

It’s a strange feeling. Being open about this. But there’s a reason I went to her before, and she doesn’t disappoint this time either.

“Yeah, I can tell. You two can be as awkward as a dog walking in boots…” She grins heartily. “…But it’s kind of cute. I guess. If you’re into that kind of thing.”

She says it like it’s a compliment, but I’m not sure how to take it. Honestly, I’m not sure I want to understand where she’s even coming from with that one. Can only imagine it means she’s caught the way our eyes keep trailing each other when we think the other isn’t looking. That she can see the way we’re still floating around the periphery.

(As though no one at all has noticed.)

“Right. Uh. Sure? We’re supposed to watch a movie tonight I guess. So, there’s that?”

She’s taking the long way to her room. Has walked herself all the way down my hall to my door rather than just continuing up the stairs.

“Oh yeah? What are you watching?”

She asks it like the answer might tell her more. Asks it like I even know the answer myself. I end up shrugging while I’m unlocking the door.

“I don’t know? I guess whatever she wants?”

Lindsey leans against the door frame before she sighs hard, but ends it with a soft smile.

“Sonny. I don’t know her like you do, _obviously_ , but I think you can stop panicking. It’s gonna be fine.”

And that confuses me. Because if there’s anything I’m not doing right now, it’s panicking. I mean, I might be nervous. I might be unclear as to what _exactly_ is going to happen. But as I’m standing here, about two seconds away from finally opening up the door and going to take my shower, I’m absolutely not panicking. _Yet._

“What are you talking about?”

The door opens easily and the room is empty. My roommate must still be away at her night class. I’m entering and throwing down my soccer bag next to the door but Lindsey remains where she is.

“You’ve been fidgeting since we left the Union and you almost dropped your keys while you were unlocking the door.”

I’m narrowing my eyes. Thinking hard. But have no recollection of any of that. 

“No?”

But Lindsey can hear the unsureness in it. Because of course now I’m wondering if she’s right.

Because I am nervous. My stomach is flipping around inside of me. Because I might have a twitch in the fingers of my right hand now that I’m paying attention to it. Because I might be sweating in ways that have nothing to do with soccer.

Lindsey just chuckles and takes a step back. Pushes away from the frame as though she knows my time is precious here. As though she knows all I plan on doing now is getting ready for tonight.

“Yes. You are. Don’t sweat it. You’ll be fine. Now shower before she realizes how much you smell after practice.”

I’m picking up the first rumpled shirt I can find to throw at her as she laughs and grabs for the door handle. Shutting it before the shirt can sail through the air and reach her. It slides harmlessly down the surface and I can hear the laughter from the other side.

“Let me know how it goes Em!” It’s muffled through the wood but her teasing tone is evident. “Love you mean it!”

And all I can do is groan. Because she doesn’t wait around. She ends up leaving quickly with footsteps that seem a little happy.

               _‘Ten Minutes.’_

And now I’ve got nothing to distract me. Nothing to stop the sinking feeling in my stomach. Nothing but the warning Kelley delivers in short fashion.

The nerves that just keep growing.

               _‘Roger that.’_

And maybe, maybe now I’d be willing to admit to you that Lindsey might be right. Maybe, while I’m moving to start what I hope feels like the most glorious shower of my life, that maybe I’m panicking a little bit.

Unsure of what will happen after the ten minutes plus whatever other time she needs when Kelley finally makes her way back.

(But that doesn’t mean I’d ever admit it to her.)

And there’s no use panicking when I can be getting ready. When I should be anticipating and trying to figure out whatever it is that Kelley might have up her sleeve.

To which I can’t be the only one who knows that showers are the epitome of a think tank. Honestly, I think we can all agree in that. There’s no better place to ponder the meaning of life. Or, in my case, there’s no better place to try and figure out what exactly it is that Kelley is up to.

To distract my nervous apprehension with excited anticipation.

But ultimately, despite a thorough washing of my hair and even taking the time to shave, I come up with nothing. I come up with no rational explanation for how all the pieces fit. At least nothing which figures in the earlier locker room request.

I hear the door open and close while I’m toweling off. Can hear some shuffling while I’m slipping on clothes. It feels like it’s a little early for Lauren to be back from class, but it’s nothing unusual for her to show up saying her professor had released them a couple of minutes early so she could make it home in time for her favorite show.

“Hey Lauren! Do you know where I put that shirt we talked about yesterday?” I’m fidgeting with the one I brought in with me, but it doesn’t feel right. “I’ve got this one, but I think I changed my mind.”

But, the answer doesn’t come. Not immediately, and not 30 seconds later when I’ve got my hair brushed roughly and slung over one shoulder.

Headphones would be the reasonable excuse. A rational idea for why she may not have heard me. But she doesn’t typically wear them at night. Doesn’t like when she can’t hear if someone is around her when she’s walking back from her car.

Which I know. Which I’m well familiar with.

Still, the warning bells don’t ring until it’s too late. Don’t ring until I’m opening the door.

Until I’m stepping out of the over-steamed bathroom in nothing but my sports bra and shorts, towel slung over the opposite shoulder of my hair.

Until I’m face-to-face with Kelley O’Hara, equally as freshly showered, nestled confidently inside the stolen Sonnett shirt that I haven’t seen since I pinned it to her wall, as she leans against my bed.

In fact, they’re only ringing when I’m met with a pair of grinning eyes and freckled cheeks.

Only ringing when it’s too late for retreat.

“Well now Em, that’s definitely quite the entrance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look at that. It was close but I made the weekend deadline.   
> Thoughts? Feelings?


	15. not enough and way too much

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that I'm late with it. I'm sorry! But...I wanted to try and get it right, and I'm celebrating my birthday a day early with all of you by dropping this.

An ambulance, or an officer, or a fire truck goes screaming down the road nearest to the dorm. I can never exactly figure out the difference between them by the whine of the sirens. Which doesn’t make a lot of sense. Not when they all sound so distinctly different. Not when they all go rushing by on their way to or from downtown in a relatively frequent way.

But _that_ doesn’t really matter does it?

 _That’s_ not the most important thing right now, is it?

(Even if I kind of wish it was.)

No. That’s just a distraction. That’s just the closest thing that my frantic brain can latch onto. It’s just the nearest most urgent blip on the panic radar that doesn’t pertain directly to me or this situation. Just something to pull at the paralyzed string in brain to try and uproot myself from the spot where I’ve become entrenched under an unexpected gaze.

Because in contrast to where I’m frozen, hand clutching at the thin fabric over where I presume my heart is from how hard it’s beating, Kelley’s as relaxed as I’ve probably ever seen her. Leaning against my bed as though this is an everyday occurrence with bent elbows resting casually from where they’re propping her up.  

“Christ Kelley. Give a girl a heart attack, why don’t you? How’d you even get in here?”

Her whole face just wears a sloppy grin as she watches me watch her, as she tilts her head with interest. As she watches me suddenly spring from whatever madness possessed me into stillness. Suddenly fidgeting with all the elegance that I’ve never been able to muster.

“First of all Em, _I said_ ten minutes.” She uses her arms to push herself up off the bed, taking a careful step in my direction, avoiding the minefield of clothing on the floor. “Secondly, if you didn’t want visitors, you should learn to lock your door. _Anyone_ could have gotten in.”

Her sarcasm is accented by the way her nostrils flare with amusement. As she struggles to contain herself from simply breaking out into a wide, open-mouthed smile. And I have to admit, now that my heart is starting to settle, now that I’ve calmed down from her sudden appearance, it’s kind of amusing.

Kind of intriguing.

“Well…. _maybe_ I’m alright with _you_ being a visitor.”

I try not to waste time feeling the way it still makes me nervous to talk with her like this. And I can only assume she doesn’t waste any time either. Not with the way her eyes are suddenly dropping for reasons that have nothing to do with avoiding clothes as she takes another step in my direction.

No. Her eyes are dragging a brazen trail that leaves a kind of heat in its wake. That has my skin tingling in unfamiliar (but not unwelcome) ways. Reminding me, with a sudden jolt, that Kelley’s never been shy with her eyes and I’m still shirtless.

And somehow I can’t decide between feeling overly exposed and interested in what’s going through her head right now.

“Well. I’d hope you’d be alright with me.” She pauses, face turning toward the window before she continues, “But…maybe I don’t want some crazed person getting you in the middle of the night.” She tilts her head again, an indication of her playful teasing, but doesn’t quite look back yet. “What would I do then?”

She drops her voice an octave as she says it. Till it’s coming out somewhere between a playful hum and gravelly question of interest. Until she’s saying it in a voice I’m still having to grow familiar with her even being able to form. A voice that visibly pulls goosebumps out along my arms (or is that from how she’s come to stand nearly flush up against me).

I cannot form a voice that drips with the kind of appeal hers does. I cannot fathom even trying. So I go for the only thing that I have left.

“Well, if you asked my dad he’d tell you no one would want me enough to be able to handle kidnapping me. They wouldn’t want to keep me when they realized what they’d gotten.”

_Sarcasm._

It’s a joke. (One my father intoned not all that long ago in response to Tobin.)

Which is of course when she picks her time to swivel that stare back from the window. To breathe out something like disbelief.

“I’d want you.”

And suddenly nothing about these hushed voices and low octaves say anything about joking.

No, instead, my stomach is pulling hard and low and there’s a knot sitting somewhere in my throat. But not in the way that normally leaves me a silently blushing mess at the most inopportune time. The way she’s staring is too warm, too actively searching for that.

“ _You would, would you?”_

I don’t know where it comes from. I don’t know what depth the words bubble from inside of me but they’re there. Just as teasing as before, but full of so much of something else. And I think those words surprise Kelley just as much as they surprise me, because it takes her a heartbeat before she responds.

“ _Do._ ”

It’s short and clipped and accompanied with plaintive eyes. It brings an unexpected flush to the tips of her ears. But then she seems to settle, to come to a feeling of certainty, because she repeats it, lower than the first time.

“ _Do want you._ ”

And that strikes a chord. Strikes somewhere deep that I can’t quite identify, but that has me moving before I even register what I’m doing. Both hands finding her, thumbs bravely resting on the jutting bones of her hips. All angles and warmth beneath the thin fabric.

Not there to hold her in place this time.

Not there to hold my legs up from falling out beneath me.

There to guide.

Because for once, _for once_ , with the sound of her words rattling through my ears, the one to make the move here is me. Eyes finding eyes before slipping closed. Before teasing, nose against nose, breath against breath, while we take one slow backwards step after another against the insistent pressure of my hands, back towards where she’d been waiting as I exited the bathroom. Pressing us backwards until there’s nowhere left to go. Until her back is firmly resting against the edge of my bed.

(I’ve never been more thankful to have lofted it.)

And it’s only when I can feel her smiling under the ghost glances of our lips that I finally give in. That I’m pressing closer to her. Her bottom lip pulled between mine until she’s inhaling sharply through her nose. The vibrations of a silent hum pulsing through her. Serving only to pull harder at the feeling in my stomach. At the rush of blood now pounding through my ears.

Her hands are tracing their way along the bottom edge of my ribs leaving hot trails as they travel. She tugs on the edge of the towel that had been resting on my shoulder till it drops to the ground. Then continues, fingertips skimming until she finally ends up gripping more firmly to each side. Settling when I end nipping at the same lip, so easily captured.

Thumbs push harder against hips, against ribs. Pressing against bones, against points that press back in acts of their volition.

And at this point, it’s getting harder to point out exactly what I’m feeling. Harder to distinguish precisely what’s happening when everything is happening all at once. When my heart is hammering so hard and loud she could certainly hear it a mile away (though it’s basically white noise to me compared to the feeling of her hands that I can feel are straining to contain themselves against my (unfairly) bare skin).

All a little overwhelming when I’m not exactly in control of my own hands which desperately want to start pushing themselves underneath the fabric of her shirt (my shirt).

Unfortunately, what’s not hard is to point out is the way there’s a sound of a key in the lock. (The lock she must have turned after entering.) What’s not hard is to point out the (laughable) way we separate as though we could bound the length of the room in one jump. And it’s not hard to see the way we look entirely guilty and caught in the act as my roommate comes striding through the door, finally arrived from her night class.

Despite the interruption though, we aren’t entirely out of luck. In fact, we’re fortunate that Lauren is Facetiming with what sounds like her mom. Fortunate that she’s distracted while Kelley pretends to play coy and unfazed while she’s smoothing out her shirt and biting at her reddened bottom lip in that way she does when she’s stressed about something.

Fortunate that I know just the right amount of eye roll to deliver when Lauren looks curiously for an explanation of whatever is happening here.

“Uh…I’m back at the room now. So, I’ll call you later or something, okay?” She’s ending her interaction abruptly, but this isn’t a new thing. Her mom simply obliges with a, _Sure thing! Get some of that homework done!_ Then she’s turning back to me. “Em. I mean, I know that your side of room is basically World War 3, but you can’t possibly have gone through so much laundry that you have no shirt at all to wear.”

And now I’m laughing. Giggling really. Which is totally inappropriate for the moment, but that comes far too easily when I can see that we’re in the clear. _At least for tonight._

“Do you know where I put that shirt we talked about yesterday?” It’s the same question I’d asked from the bathroom earlier. Only this time, the actual recipient is here to hear it. And I see a small grin finally start to form on what had been Kelley’s cautiously stony face as she hears it. As she, too, realizes that there’s nothing to worry about. “I’ve been searching, but it’s gone MIA.”

“The one with the donuts on it?”

To which Kelley’s eyebrow raises in what can only be increasing interest. Intrigue even. Which she almost laughs at, but manages to contain herself.

“Yes! That one! I can’t find it anywhere!”

Lauren snorts softly before pointing towards my desk which is covered in a motley assortment of, well, everything.

“It’s on the Can’t-forget-where-I-put-it-if-I-put-it-here-where-I-can-see-it-chair.”

I see it now, of course. Exactly where I had laid it, and exactly where I had then laid my jersey over top of it. With a happy skip I go and snatch it up while Lauren drops her phone onto the bedside stand and her bookbag onto the bed.

“Perfect! You’re the best!” I assume she makes a face at Kelley that I can’t see while I’m slipping my shirt up and over my head, because I can hear them both snicker. But, in the interest of time, I choose to ignore it for now. Moving on to more pressing matters. “Oh! Just wanted to let you know, I think you’ll have the room to yourself tonight. I’m heading over to Kelley’s to watch a movie. I’ll probably just end up sleeping over there rather than coming back at whatever time of night. Gotta let you have your beauty sleep.”

Lauren laughs in the way that she usually does while we’re joking with each other, but I can almost hear the way Kelley questions how I know Alex will be absent. Can feel the way there’s a grin sliding into place on my own face as it happens. Pride at having been able to surprise her.

“Oh, I’m not the one who needs their beauty sleep. I look great all the time. But thanks for the heads up. Enjoy yourselves and don’t get into trouble. You know I can’t afford to bail you out of jail.”

I’m grinning as I slip on shoes and grab a light hoodie just in case. I can run back to the room for my bag tomorrow before class, so I luckily don’t need anything else. Kelley’s hovering by the door, thumbs tucked inside her waistband, rocking back and forth, revealing in all the least subtle of ways how she’s ready to get going.

“Can’t promise anything, you know that. But I’ll see you tomorrow.”

So, rather than carry this out further, I oblige her.

Lauren gives a light wave while we make our exit; as she basically throws herself down into bed, getting comfortable for what I can assume is homework, Netflix, and snacking.

“Lock the door on your way out!” She shouts as we shut the door behind us and neither Kelley or I can stop the way we laugh at it. At the ridiculous joke we’ve managed to unintentionally create.

It’s only now, though, that we’re walking back down and out of my building to head across campus that I get another real look at Kelley. Or maybe that we get another look at each other. I can feel the way we both keep glancing back and forth.

“So…sleeping at mine tonight, eh? Aren’t you being a little forward now? How do you know that Alex won’t be back tonight?”

And without a doubt, I know now, that I should never have questioned myself earlier. That of course Kelley would be impressed rather than upset at my having ruined the surprise. Because like anything, really, everything about how she says it tells me this is a kind of competition. And she’s wearing an expression that reads something like a challenge.

“Oh, I’ve got my ways.”

She nudges my shoulder with hers playfully. More direct than the way the backs of our hands keep brushing against each other.

“Oh, _I’m sure you do_. But let’s see if I can’t surprise you some other way.”

I don’t know how she does it. How everything seems to be laced with equal parts flirtation and humor, but she does. Does it in ways that keeps surprising me.

\-----------------------------------------------------

I’m not sure what exactly my expectations were for the night. (That’s a lie, and you know it.) But it certainly isn’t this. This would seem to be something else entirely.

Kelley pushes the door open, and there, where I expected things to be entirely normal, is a scene straight from the romantic rom-coms that I love making fun of.

There’s a full size bed made up on the floor in the center of the room.

Poking at it with my toe, as Kelley observes me admiring her handiwork, I can tell that it’s a blow up air mattress. Complete with sheets and a comforter and a throw blanket and pillows. Mind you, none of them match, but that doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter if I can tell that she cobbled the ensemble together, because I can tell by the smug look on her face that’s she’s insanely proud she’s pulled it off.

“Where in the world did you get an air mattress?”

She laughs. Laughs like of course that would be the thought on my mind. As though she knows and loves that’s she’s managed to do something unexpected.

“Well, there’s a lot of places I _Could_ have gotten one. The world is a big place you know.” She grins as I’m shaking my head, as I’m rolling my eyes. “But this bad boy was borrowed from Becky.”

Of all the places in the world, which admittedly is a lot, that was not the place I was expecting.

“From Becky?”

 “Her and her boyfriend love _camping_.”

She waggles her eyebrows suggestively.

“Gross.”

She just laughs again. Tries to hold back a snort, and then laughs some more when she fails.

“No, but really. No jokes. They love camping. She still had it in her car from this place they went to right before preseason. It’s kind of a little awesome. And they’re adorable. But no worries. The bedding is mine, and it’s all freshly washed. Unlike _some people_ I know, I do my laundry frequently.”

I turn to kick off my shoes towards the door.

“If I didn’t have to pay for laundry like _some people_ I know, maybe I’d do laundry more frequently.”

She laughs but it sounds muffled, like she’s laughing in the wrong direction. When I turn back around I can see her digging into a mini fridge. When she turns back around, both hands full, kicking it shut with the heel of a foot, I finally understand why Kelley needed a ride from Allie. Finally feel another puzzle piece sliding itself into place.

(Find myself wondering how in-depth she chose to plan this night.)

“For you. I wasn’t sure what you’d want, so…I tried my best.”

She’s holding out one of her hands. A cup of Froyo filled with what looks like vanilla and fresh fruit. It’s just a little melty (which is honestly perfect), but mostly preserved.

“Kell, seriously? You didn’t need to do this.”

Her cheeks tinge pink just slightly, right along bone. Right in all the ways that make her all the more tempting.

“Uhm, well. I got the full story from Tobs about how you managed to convince Alex to help when you flipped my room. Didn’t seem fair that you bought for everyone and never got to try it yourself. So…”

She trails off. Choosing instead to take a bite of the other cup that’s remained in her possession. Using the spoon that’s nicely been sitting like a vertical call to arms in the center of the container. Sitting like a life preserver for against speaking any more words.

And suddenly I’m amused that she even thought of it. Somehow still surprised that she took that time and spent it on me. While, also, admittedly curious as to what she had to do to get Tobin to talk.

“Well, thank you. It’s sweet.”

I take the first bite of my own. Take the opportunity to stop speaking, to just observe. Vanilla was not correct. It’s something else. Sweet with a strong aftertaste that’s actually mellowed by the fruit. A beautiful combination.

“Oh…it’s uh, it’s not a big deal.”

She’s uncharacteristically shy about it. Biting at the spoon pressed between her lips. Head dipping away.  Which is strangely endearing. Which makes it all the easier, all the more tempting, to tease her on it.

“Oh, not you.” Her face drops dramatically for a second where I’m just slightly worried I’ve hurt her feelings until I end up winking, even though I know that I’m not particularly good at it. Before it seems to register that I’m only joking. “I meant the Froyo. It’s so sweet.”

Before she settles into the usual grin. Before we settle back into what seems to be the vibe and the tempo and the flow that only happens when we’re alone.

“Yeah, yeah, Sonnett. You know that tastes amazing. That’s like, my favorite order.”

My stomach tangles with the thought that she’d share her favorite _anything_ with me. And then it has me suddenly questioning if she’s as nervous now as I might have been earlier. Before I actually got her alone. Before I might have gotten my initial nerves out in the best, most physical way possible.

“So, Kelley O’hara. You promised me a _perfectly innocent_ movie night?”

I still have no idea where the bravery comes from. Have no idea where these words, with all their heavy undertones, form. But I can tell it soothes her, can see it in her smile.

“Yes! I did.” She hops around the air mattress (almost literally), squeezing between it and the actual beds to get to her desk where she picks up a DVD case. “And I have the perfect movie!”

I’m not wasting time. With Froyo in hand, I’m already sitting myself down cross-legged on the air mattress. Getting well comfortable. Life lesson, you can’t be the awkward one when you’re the first one into place.

“Well? Would you like to share with the audience?”

She just grins. Moves towards the TV. Holding her froyo with one hand and DVD case with the other as she tears the plastic off somehow using only her teeth. Popping it open against her leg with a remarkable amount of balance, still using only one hand, inserting the disc, and starting the movie.

“You’ll see!” And she says it with such eagerness, with such veracity, that I immediately know she’s seen this before. Has seen this and loved it. And for a second time I’m startled with her willingness, openness to share something she loves.

She only pauses with the briefest, most subtle hesitation before she seems to throw caution to the wind. Flipping the lights off and then moving to take her seat next to me. Knee to knee. Taking another bite as she grins happily around her spoon, eyes trained ahead, as the obligatory advertisement trailers play.

I take another bite of my own, looking for a distraction from the over awareness I have of her skin, pressing hot against mine. Watching her in my periphery as she tries to physically contain herself from bobbing along to the trailer music.

“Hey, Kell…”

She looks sideways, questioningly at me, but doesn’t say a word. All soft and warm and giddy. There’s a lump in my throat I can’t explain. Something that makes me lose the words I’d thought to say. (Lose them among the white noise and the blood hammering through my ears.)

“…this was a good idea.” It’s all I can make come out from between my lips. It’s all I can form that seems true and speakable. And maybe it’s enough, because there’s a certain crease that forms at the corners of her eyes highlighted in the light of the television screen. The one she only has when she really means the smile she’s wearing.

She just nods a single happy time before she looks back towards the screen and leans closer. Inching herself nearer to where I’d really like her to be. Inching my heart higher up towards my throat.

And even though I’d rather have my attention anywhere else now, all that’s left to do is watch too.

\----------------------------------------

I’ll give you three guesses as to the kind of movie that Kelley chooses for us to watch, and the first two don’t count. Because when she said _perfectly innocent_ , for once in the great, wide, history of movie watching between two newly involved people, she meant it.

She picked Tommy Boy.

Which means she picked Comedy.

Though, I don’t mean to sound entirely despondent about it. The fact is, by the time we’d both finished eating, we were gut deep laughing. So busy being entertained that it was easy to find the silent agreement that maybe laying down was preferable to sitting now. And, maybe, it still gave me just a little anxiety. Maybe I still wasn’t quite sure what was allowed, what was off-limits.

But it worked out.

By the time we’re laughing for the last time, by the time the credits begin to roll, and Kelley let’s out a contented sigh, we’re shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, thigh to thigh. Kelley’s got one hand just resting over my nearest forearm. Warm. Comfortable.

“So, Ms. Sonnett. Enjoy yourself?”

She smiles in the dark, something I can hear more than I can see as she rolls to her side. As she rolls so she’s fully facing me. Hand still never leaving my arm.

“First. Calling me Miss _anything_ out of your mouth just sounds so wrong. Second. Of course. I probably would have enjoyed anything you decided on.”

She just laughs. Head falling a bit until it’s hitting my shoulder. Almost hiding.

“Yeah. It was just as weird to say. No worries. That won’t happen again.”

She’s got me grinning too. Even though I know she can’t see it. Not really.  Just enjoying the moment and the stillness. The only interruption is the music behind the running credits. Just the both of us together, here in the dark. 

“It’s kind of funny.”

She picks her head up, just enough that she can see over my shoulder now. Maybe get a glimpse of my face.

“What, the movie? It’s definitely funny.”

I can feel the vibrations across my skin as she talks. It’s a different kind of closeness.

“No. I mean…this. All of this. Just, the way it feels easy, I guess.”

She hums in thought. Another vibration across my skin. It’s enticing in its own way.

“Yeah. I guess that’s one way to describe it.”

I look down towards her. At the flyaway hairs and the crease of a wrinkle in her forehead.

“Is there another way?”

She thinks on it. I can tell from the way I feel her jaw working together below me for a few seconds and then she just seems to concede.

“Not really. But. I kind of the like that there aren’t words for it.”

Not having words for something isn’t something I tend to like. Is something that honestly tends to bother me. Not being able to describe something is usually frustrating. But knowing she knows what I mean, even without my being able to give it accurate words, well that’s enough in this case.

“Yeah, I guess that’s okay with me too.”

Her fingertips start to dance, start to move in simple patterns along the underside of my forearm.

“So, you wanna watch something else? We have Netflix.”

I know the words that I want to say, but find that my ability for using those new and brave words fall short in supply. I settle the thoughts in my head instead. There’s always time.

“Yeah, sure. You pick something.”

I feel her smile again against my shoulder before she leans away and grabs a remote she’s had hidden on the floor by her side. She flips sources and then skims around the menu a bit. Settling for something I’ve never seen, let alone heard of before.

I wait for her to resume the position she’d taken previously, but it doesn’t happen. I can feel the uptick in the heartbeat inside my chest. As the title screen comes into view, she doesn’t seem to move except to put the remote down and lay her head back where it had been comfortable. And it only takes another few moments for her fingertips to resume their featherlight patterns.

I’ll be honest. Five minutes in, in which the title was clearly shown, and I still have no idea what we’re watching. Too engrossed, too caught up in the feeling against my skin.

Another five minutes later, she starts to stretch. Legs kicking out and away from where they’d been. I immediately miss the heat of them. The comfortable pressure. I’m tempted to protest. To throw a look her way. Maybe even to pout if necessary, but then I’m preemptively shut up.

As she finishes stretching with a loud sigh, (an exhalation that sounds nothing like a yawn) she does bring that leg back.

_And then some._

Knee coming rest over my thigh. Hitched like a figure four.  

I can feel my nerves resonating in the beats of my chest. Pounding out in heavy throbs. The vein in my neck is pulsating in a way I can feel.

Her hand, the patiently tracing one, inches higher; playing long strokes now between the inside of my elbow and its original home.

She giggles, lowly. Presumably at something that’s being said on the screen, but I can’t seem to pay it any mind. Can’t quite seem to focus on it in order to make it out. Focused too hard on the trails of goosebumps she keeps bringing up. On the subtle pressures she’s exerting.

Time, it would seem, is a funny kind of thing now. Because I can’t seem to tell how much is passing. How many seconds pass with each brush of her index finger. How many minutes pass between small sighs.

All questions without answers. Though, in all probability, it’s longer than I think it is. Time spent like I’m caught in a vice-grip of indecision, because it isn’t too much longer that she turns to stare straight at me. Small smile playing at her lips in a way that only serves to fuel the heavy thumping against my ribs.

“You okay over there?” She finally asks, just the smallest tease playing inside her whisper.

You know, and I know, that the answer is yes. The answer is yes, I’m fine. _More than fine_ , _thank you very much_. But I can’t quite get the answer out. Instead, I’m swallowing hard, trying to dislodge the lump that’s in my throat.

It doesn’t work. It sits heavy there regardless.  She’s got a wet sheen to her bottom lip in this light and I can’t seem to draw my eyes away from it. I end up nodding just slightly instead.

The smile playing there deepens.

“You sure?” She asks again.

This time there’s a shiver that runs down my right side, neck to rib to hip to thigh to toes. It’s something about the way her breath hits my neck. I wonder if she can feel the way I can’t quite seem to get my lungs to work normally. If she can feel the way I’m starting to sweat underneath the heat of us.

“Mhm.”

I manage a mumbled confirmation, but this time there’s a look that seems to fall over her face. Something pointed. Something noteworthy. Something unexplainable.

She props herself up on her near elbow, looking down at me. Fingertips trailing from elbow up to shoulder. Dancing their way slowly across my collarbone. Down the length of my other arm and back up.

She doesn’t look away.

It should be unnerving, but it’s not.

I can’t look away either.

“Em.” She’s speaking in full, low tones now. My name a hummed note in her throat. “Emily. You can stop me, if you want…” It’s so strange to me. The way she always lets me know. Always puts me in control. As if these shaky hands should be in control of the ride. “…you just have to say so. But I just…I just want to…” As if these hands know anything besides _go, go, go._

Her fingertips trail upward again, across my collarbone, up my neck, come to rest cupped from my jaw to the back of my ear. And before I can appreciate the way she’s still looking at me, eyes full of that look I can’t describe, she’s kissing me again. Full and needy. Picking up almost exactly where’d we left things when I’d had her pinned against the side of my bed.

I’m not sure how my heart keeps up as it doubles its pace. As it pounds hard and steady against the bones of my rib cage. As it reacts to the way she rolls the entirety of her body, balancing against the unsteady mattress beneath us until the knee that had once only been resting over my thigh now comes to rest between my legs. As she hovers, whole body leaning into mine. As her free hand trails its way down my side, finding solid purchase at my hip. As her thumb slides with increasing pressure along the inside of the bone. The unintentional lift as my body reacts, as it attempts to rise to meet her.

She pulls at my bottom lip, teeth gentle but insistent. And by now we know, don’t we? There’s no use for my lungs at all.

“Kell…Kell.”

I’m not even sure what it is that I’m trying to say. She looks expectantly, waiting for the word that doesn’t come. Because I don’t want her to stop. I’m all aboard. But I can’t seem to figure out how to gather a thought. How to do anything more than simply _react._

I nod again. It’s the only thing that I can seem to do when my mouth is far too dry to speak.

She smiles again. Or maybe it’s a smirk. Maybe it’s something devilish and attractive and tempting. I can’t tell because suddenly she’s moving again. Left hand squeezing at my hip, the right (the one tucked up where she could cradle my head) now tilting me away, exposing the vulnerable surface of my ear.

There’s a full body shiver before she ever even gets to her destination. Before there’s teeth and tongue and hot breath and too many sensations to even describe.

It’s only when that right hand of hers trails back down to find my other hip that something finally, finally catches in the wildly free-spinning gears of my brain. Some kind of systemic overload that propels me forward into action. Hands dragging up the sides of her thighs, over her hips. Hesitating only for a few moments, playing at the hem of her shorts as though I’m asking for permission before finally ending up underneath her shirt. To bare skin. To where I’d wanted them to be since Lauren interrupted us.

Her breath catches. I can feel it from where she’s making her way slowly, distractingly, down the side of my neck. It only serves as fuel. Thumbs tracing their way over the flexed muscles I wish that I could see clearly. Playing softly with the rib bones, up to the edge of her sports bra, tracing along the fabric until I have both of my palms against her upper back.

I can feel the way she slows down. Caught somewhere around my clavicle, hovering near the vein that keeps pulsing so heavily I’m sure she could see it. She drags her teeth there, nipping and soothing. Not hard but enough to elicit a reaction. Enough that I find my own fingertips go dragging their way hard along the edge of her spine. Thumbs curling around the bunched waistband. Lower body lifting and contracting around her.

If I had nails, we’d have a real problem.

“Kell.” It’s rough and broken. “Kelley.”

She pulls away. We’re both breathing hard. Faces flush despite the dark.

“Em.”

We’re closer than I remember being. And she’s dangerously close to being _exactly_ where I want her, thumb toying at my shorts which are pinned between our hips.

It’s…everything I want. But, for the moment, it’s way too much.

I lick at my lips, buy myself a second to calm down. I can see the way she stares and it only makes it harder to stop this.

“I think…” I clear my throat again. There’s no lump anymore, just a dry sort of eagerness.  “…I think maybe we should…just…” I can’t quite get it out, but I see it register on her face. The gentle fall of her features. A subtle hollowness that doesn’t quite fit her.

“Yeah. Yeah, no, you’re right.”

She gently, purposefully, disentangles our legs. Moves herself, shakily back to where she’d been. (How had it been so smooth to get there.) It takes a second to realize that I need her to know this isn’t a rejection.

“Hey, Kell?”

She looks over, finding my eyes. A questioning hum resonating from her chest as she continues to readjust to a comfortable (but uncompromising) position. There’s only one way to get her to understand. Only one perfect way.

“What happened to _perfectly innocent movie night_?”

Sarcasm and teasing. Using whatever this perfect mixture is to pull her back to me. To see those eyes come back to life. To see that smirk that takes its place exactly where it belongs. To hear her chuckle in the exact way that I love to hear.

“You started it.” She murmurs it back against my shoulder. All the elegance of a four year old on the playground but her eyes are sharp and mischievous.

“How did I start it?!”

It’s the perfect reaction to come from another child. I can’t believe it comes from me. (I can, actually. But that’s not important.) I roll awkwardly until I’m facing her.

“You had to go and be all…” I feel her struggle for the right word before she finally settles on a choice, “…tempting.”

I can’t help but to chuckle. Because there’s never been a single person in my entire life who’s said something quite so silly. Something that untrue.

“Oh yeah? I’m so sure that _that_ was it.”

She eyes me carefully, biting at her lip before she continues. Much lower this time. Almost a whisper.

“It was that donut shirt. You were right about it all along.”

I can’t stop the grin. Because that, of course, is something I can believe. _I love this shirt_.

“Told you so.” It’s got all the triumph of the kid who just won a pissing battle at recess. “You look better in mine though.”

It goes quiet, and my nerves would eat me alive if I couldn’t see her small smile in the dark. She reaches across the small amount of space between us. Takes my hand in hers. Entwines our fingers until they fit, just exactly how she wants them.

It’s a long time, or what feels like a long time while we just seem to watch each other breathe. While her thumb rubs the smallest of circles onto the skin of my hand. While she starts to lull me into sleep.

“It’s late.” She finally whispers. As though she can tell I’ve been fighting to stop my drooping eyelids.

“I know.”

It’s just a mumble. I find myself turning again until I’m on my back. I can feel her hesitate with our linked hands. With our positioning. Unsure exactly where to be.

I tug her, as gently as I can.

So, she scoots, as gracefully as she can against the pliable material below us. Scoots, in minuscule movements with every tug until I have her right up against my side. Until I have her hand, still firmly in my grip, resting straight on my chest. Rising and falling with every breath.

With my eyes falling shut, seemingly of their own accord, so quickly as the adrenaline in my system dies away, I find myself leaning farther into her.

And it’s funny how the edges of sleep come and go. The way things feel as you slip into and out of consciousness with someone else there beside you for the first time. The familiar and the unfamiliar all at once. The way dreams blend seamlessly with reality as you hover between them.

Which I suppose might be why I can’t be entirely sure if it happens or not.

Can’t be entirely sure if, what feels like hours later I actually feel her lips as they brush against the fabric of the t-shirt covering my shoulder.

Can’t decide if I actually hear her whisper, “ _So_ , so beautiful and you don’t even know it.”

Can’t decide if it’s all real, or just the dream of the words I wish she would say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Thoughts? Feelings? Opinions? I'm super interested in what you all might have to say.
> 
> Also, feel free to drop by at any time for a chat. I love the company.   
> http://writing-to-stay-awake.tumblr.com/


	16. Time's Ticking

There’s a gap in the covering Kelley and Alex have thrown haphazardly over their window. The deep purple and blue of the night is laced with the sure shock of peach and orange that warns of the sun’s imminent rise. There’s the dim sound of birds waking for their first meals.

Morning slips through the hold of the night slowly.

Slips through with each softly snored in-breath from the warm body against me, with each muffled outbreath that breaks the hold of the morning quiet.

I’m not sure exactly when it happened. When we’d ended up curled together quite this closely. Nestled right up against each other, front to back as we both slept on our sides. Her arm, still firmly thrown around my waist underneath a thin blanket. The other tucked in a small pocket of space so it’s pressed directly against the skin of my lower back where my T-shirt has risen.

The air conditioning has left the room chilled overnight, but I’m not sure I’ve ever felt warmer.

In a moment of blind insanity, I find my free hand, the one she hasn’t trapped, reach out to trace the soft skin of her forearm. Tracing what I think might be her name absentmindedly while I wonder how it is exactly that we got here. How we jumped to this after such a hesitant start. Feeling all at once out of my league and perfectly at home.

For clarity’s sake, I’m not complaining. But I am a realist (most of the time), and I know this bubble of ours can’t last forever.

I catch myself, moving from her name to general thoughts, halfway through _beautiful_ before I’m stuttering my tracing fingertips to a stop. Before I find myself realizing that, though her breathing has maintained a deep and even rhythm, the soft snores once breaking into the emptiness around us have stopped.

“…Kel?” It’s the barest of whispers. Basically nothing around the first cracked word after sleep. “Are you awake?”

The response is a noted easy tremble in her legs. The stretching of waking muscles. The way she buries her face into my back. The smile I can feel in her cheeks just below the base of my neck. 

“She’s caught me. I’ve been had.”

It’s a scratchy murmur hot against the fabric covering my skin, but it’s warm teasing. It’s the encompassing arm of hers shamelessly tugging me closer.

“What time is it Kel?”

It’s a dumb question. I know it. There’s no reason she’d even have the answer when she’s newly woken. When I don’t even have confirmation that her eyes are open. But I can’t seem to make my brain work intelligently.

“Early.” She responds, voice a mixture of playfulness and rough gravel. “Good morning.”

She adjusts our positions. Stretches herself somehow without ever moving apart so that’s she’s creeped up an inch or two. Moved herself so she can reach, chin pushing at the hem of the shirt around my neck. Pushing it down to expose skin so she can gently press her lips there.

There’s a tingle that travels down my spine and sits in my stomach.

“I don’t want to get up.”

It’s a simple concession, but it still feels monumental to say. Still feels like a brave and foreign thing with her. (Brave and foreign in the ways that make you nervous, but excited.)

“So don’t.”

She’s matter-of-fact. Waking up fully now. I can feel her blink a few times, just the flutter of eyelashes against my skin. Trying to knock the dust of sleep away.

“We can’t stay here forever.” I’m turning my head now, pushing my lack of flexibility to the limit trying to catch sight of her without moving from the position I’m incredibly comfortable in. “We have class. We have practice.”

She doesn’t move to let me see her more fully. If anything, she burrows further. Hides away while she mumbles, “We have Alex.”

Acknowledging for the first time out loud what I’ve always known. _That this will be a problem._

It stays quiet after that. Just our breathing occupying the space.

I’m not sure what to say.

I’m not sure what she wants to say.

Eventually she sighs. Pulling her head out from where she’s tucked it to breathe. Gentle puffs against the stray hairs on my neck.

“We have time.” She finally says. As though she knows it for a fact.

I don’t know why those few words sit so solidly with me.

“We don’t even know what time it is. How do you know that?” I’m starting the desperately unwanted shimmy to try and see her better. Rolling just enough that I can see an angle of her face. Just enough that I can see the morning smirk growing there.

“ _You_ may not know. But I set your alarm last night to make sure you made it to class. It hasn’t gone off yet. So…we have time.”

She looks so different in this light. In the dawn of the sun with messy hair, with the soft grin, with her eyes still wanting to pull themselves shut.

“Oh.”

She just chuckles. Leans up and in to place her lips briefly at my ear. Breathing there as she does it in a way that sends a shiver down my legs and through my toes. A grumble of something through my stomach before she lays herself comfortably back down.

As comfortable as I am, as happy as I am, as interlocked as we are, I’m suddenly so desperate for something else. For something that will really let me _see_ her. _See_ this sleepy unguarded figure so close to me.

I’m not sure how, if it’s the sigh of masked frustration or the sudden silence, but she picks up on my indecision.

“What is it Em?”

Without looking I know she’s watching now, with full-eyed attention.

I struggle for a few seconds to try and come up with the words. Chew them over in my mouth, but can’t quite find the right thing to say. The arm of hers that has been tucked useless against me shifts as she does. There’s a hot palm against my lower back now and a thumb rubbing circles there before I finally just decide _screw it!_ And make the shift.

It’s a quick roll. A little awkward with the surface we’ve been sleeping on, but suddenly she’s right there. Face to face, knees knocking awkwardly into knees. Hands splayed out and empty between us.

The kind of dysfunction that happens because you’re still awkward. Because you’re still learning each other.

The kind of dysfunction that still warms the soft place in your chest.

“What? Am I that terrible a cuddler? You just had to get away?” Her face is playful. All sarcasm as her hands edge their way across the sheet until they find my mine.

As they learn their way to me.

“I just wanted to be able to see you.”

She chuckles. Running an index finger down and then up one of my palms. _Like maybe she’s gauging the strength of the lifeline there._

“I’m right here. You’re not missing anything.”

She’s teasing. Eyes full of humor, wrinkling at the corners and staring straight into mine. Indulging the needy piece inside of me.

But I’m not teasing.

I’m not teasing at all.

“I’d be missing everything.”

The whispered words don’t feel real. They don’t feel like mine. Don’t seem like something I could possibly get to come out from between my lips. But no matter how much they don’t feel real, they are. And they are saying what I’m feeling. Whether I’m realizing it or not.

The way she swallows, hard and slow tells me she wasn’t expecting them either. The way her cheeks can’t seem to choose between wanting to bloom with color and drain entirely.

It’s disconcerting.

And her silence makes me feel like I’ve somehow said something exceptionally wrong. Leaves me feeling openly exposed and vulnerable while Kelley remains silent.

“…Kel?” It’s the most nervous question I’ve asked yet and I haven’t even said anything.

It feels like the longest three breaths of my life.

It’s at least the longest and most uncertain moment I can think of.

Kelley finally breaks it though. With a squeeze of our fingers together. With the press of her closed lips against mine. With one shaky thumb that she reaches up to run along my bottom lip.

“You’re just…you’re different, Em. There aren’t words for it.”

I want to ask her what she means. I want to implore her to tell me what it is about those words that has her so quiet. To just _try_ to explain it.

But I don’t.

Because how could I ask her to explain what I can’t understand myself.

I just reach for the hand with the thumb that rests on my lip. Thread our fingers. Push our legs together until they’ve become a tangled knot. Press my lips against the skin of her hand.

She smiles softly before she burrows her head back into the crook of my neck.

“I want to kiss you but I’ve got morning breath,” She mumbles. “Nap with me instead.” And I can’t help the way I laugh. Can’t stop the vibrations in my chest that match the way her lips smile against my skin.

It fades though. Fades as the soft snores of hers pick up again. As I find my one free hand rubbing the smallest of circles on her back.

She can nap for as long as she’d like, but I know there isn’t that much time.

I don’t want to waste a second of it.

\------------------------------------------

I end up leaving for class without waking her. Stumbling out of bed, gathering my wits, finding my shoes, and slipping out the door before my alarm ever goes off. Kelley was still splayed out on the bed, a reaching hand held out across where I’d been. It was a sight that left an ache in my chest.

But it had seemed like the right thing to do.

I needed to change and grab my things. I needed to go to class. I needed to be well free and clear of that room before Alex ever got back.

But now? Now I’m not quite so sure about a few of my decisions.

I’m halfway through a perfectly prepared peanut butter and banana sandwich at lunch when they come walking through the door. Like a magnet, her eyes find mine easily despite the crowd. Without ever speaking, I know that something is wrong. The way she subtly looks at Alex who’s talking away beside her. The way it’s like a nod in her direction. The way she rolls her eyes. The way she heads straight to another table. Close enough that I can hear bits and bobs of their conversation, but abnormal in the way that typically she has no problem sitting right next to me.

 “—Just…Kelley. You know I’d rather know. Just tell me…” Alex’s voice is plaintive as she sets her bookbag down in a chair. Just over the border of curious and more like a soft demand.

Kelley’s already slung her bag into a seat. Is searching through her wristlet for her student ID.

“I already told you Al…”

They turn to walk away. To go and grab food. Kelley’s feet are practically dragging with each step.

Lindsey knocks her shoulder into mine.

“What was that about?” It’s a curious question slipped out around a bite of stir-fry.

Sam looks up from her green tea and salad curiously.

“I have no idea.”

Because I don’t. Not yet. Though I have a sinking suspicion of a few possibilities on what it could be. Things that make me think maybe I should have woken Kelley up so she could get things cleaned up from last night.

Lindsey side eyes me in a way that lingers. In a way that has Sam shifting her eyes between the two of us. Obviously realizing that there’s something going on that she doesn’t know about. 

“ _Something_ happened.” Lindsey finally lets out. Taking another bite and chewing slowly as she quirks an eyebrow.

“ _Nothing_ happened.” Which is…not entirely a lie. Nothing _major_ happened. But my body has chosen the moment to betray me. Has decided to send hot blood rushing up through my ears. Revealing me for the liar that I am.

“ _Sonn._ Oh my god… _dish_! Dish, Dish, Dish!”

Lindsey is overly giddy despite the hushed tones. Sam’s curious look is morphing slowly into genuine perplexity. With each trade-off of her eyes between us I can see the questioning growing more defined.

“ _Nothing_ happened Linds.” I try again. Emphasizing. Trying to get her to understand. But either she doesn’t get it or she doesn’t care. Because she just stares back. Hard.

“Emily Ann Sonnett.” She proclaims it like it’s the keys to the conversation. I can see a wrinkle forming between Sam’s eyebrows now. Kelley and Alex are stuck in a brief line. I can see Kelley’s shoulders sagging as Alex continues to speak to her.

I find myself looking quickly between the four of them. Trying to decide just what exactly I can say.

“I…we didn’t….” It’s basically a stutter. I smash a bite of sandwich in my mouth instead of continuing as though it can save me. Chewing hard through the peanut butter and staring down.

 _Guilty_.

That’s exactly what the posture screams and I know it.

“Can someone _please_ explain to me what you’re talking about?” Sam finally pipes up from her side of the table. She’s one hundred percent serious, hands clasped on top of the table, fork laid down neatly on top of her plate.

Lindsey looks at her as though she hadn’t quite thought about that point. An _Oops!_ Expression all over her face.

“Uh…nothing really. Just giving Em a hard time” She tries. But it falls flat. And I know, with the sinking feeling in my stomach as I see Kelley grabbing food from where she’s at, that Sam’s about to be included in the small circle of truth knowers.

“Uh huh….” She trails off and takes a sip of her tea. She purses her lips briefly, taps her fingers a couple of times on the table top, and then cocks her head just slightly to the side. “…Would you like to try again? That was literally the weakest line I’ve ever heard and my sister told our parents some pretty horrendous stories while we were high school to try and get out of things.”

Lindsey looks at me briefly. Apologetically.

I suppose if it’s anyone, this would be the best option. A trial run maybe. I give her the briefest of nods. A, _you’re not out of the woods on this, but it’s fine._

“…It’s nothing really. Just trying to figure out what’s maybe, kind of sort of, potentially happening between KelleyAndEmilyButReallyIt’sProbablyNothing.”

It ends up falling out in a rush. From nothing to everything all at once. I think maybe she’s seen the way Kelley and Alex have started their walk back and decided at the very least she shouldn’t have it said when Alex could hear. Shouldn’t give up details to two people in one day.

Sam just nods her head twice. Blinks a couple of times as though she’s processing what she’s heard. Then turns around to look behind her. Pretending to, or maybe actually, cracking her back as an excuse.  (She’s nothing if not more cautious than Lindsey.) She takes in Kelley’s incoming proximity, and then turns herself back around.

“We’ll talk about this later.” She finally says in our general direction. And not without reason, because Kelley and Alex’s voices are finally in earshot again.

“--Jesus, Alex, can you just stop! I’ve told you half a dozen times. He wasn’t here!”

Kelley’s slumping quickly into her seat. The briefest of glances in my direction as she does so. A glance full of exasperation. A glance full of something else too.

“It just doesn’t make sense Kelley.”

Alex sits down roughly as well. She makes no move to touch her food. Leans into the table.

“Why doesn’t it make sense? What about it is there to make sense of?”

It dawns on me now that their voices have risen. Where I could just make out pieces before, it’s all evident now.

“No one just blows up an air mattress in the middle of their own dorm room. No one gets themselves two cups of Froyo and eats both at one time.”

I can feel Lindsey’s eyes on me even though I’m not looking at her. Unsure what pieces she’s fitting together, what images she’s creating in her mind.

Meanwhile, I can feel my stomach sinking. Trying to determine whether or not to step in. Whether it’s better to stay out of things and let Kelley handle them, or if maybe she could use some kind of backup.

“Alex. I hear you…” I can almost see her navigate her way around the conversation. Can see her avoid the details. “…but I’m telling you…with absolute truth, that Justin was not in our room last night. He wasn’t near your things. He wasn’t on our campus. He wasn’t anywhere near me.”

Alex stays quiet. I can’t see her face, but the way the tension sits in her shoulders. Like maybe she knows her questions aren’t being answered, but that she’s also getting the actual truth.

“It still doesn’t make sense.”

Her voice has lowered a half a decibel. It’s a sign she’s willing to listen. I can see the relief on Kelley’s face. Can see she sees the tide turning.

“I borrowed the air mattress from Broon. I just thought it would be nice to stretch out for once. You weren’t going to be here to step on me in the morning, and honestly, it was kind of fun. I don’t have a car, obviously, so I went with Allie to get Froyo since you weren’t here. I got two cups while I could. I was just going to keep one in the freezer and eat it later today after practice. You know I like them melty, but then I was watching Tommy Boy and you know how I am about that movie and suddenly I’d eaten them both. Don’t ‘ _no one eats both at the same time’_ around me. You know how I can get.”

It’s almost a work of art. The way she thinks on the fly. Masterfully weaving in facts to anchor her lie.

Her eyes flash in my direction as I feel Alex take it all in. They’re more confident now. And maybe just one or two degrees mischievous. It’s a tell that she knows she’s going to get away with this.

Unfortunately, I don’t hear Alex’s response. I don’t hear it because they’ve finally resumed speaking at a normal volume. Can only tell that they’ve both managed to move to new subjects or at least some agreements when they both actually start eating.

In contrast, I feel like I’m wilting under the eyes of Sam and Lindsey who eat quietly with expectant stares. Who look with far too much knowing questioning when my phone suddenly vibrates from where it rests on the table. When Kelley’s name flashes across the screen.

_‘Have I got a story to tell you later.’_

Has my cheeks turning pink under Lindsey’s new smirk, under rapt stare.

But it isn’t that, that really has me feeling off balance. No, it’s the low roiling in my stomach. The reaction to the way I find myself responding despite knowing they’re watching.

‘ _As long as it means I get to see you later.’_

As though they can’t see it happening. As though I don’t care. As though Alex isn’t just across the table from Kelley and in distance to intercept. As though I’ve got no fear of the girl who was just ready to crucify.

I can see the devious wrinkle at the corner of Kelley’s eyes as they flash, ever so briefly, my way. And I know the answer.

_Of course I’m seeing her later._

As if it were ever any question at all.

\---------------------------------------------------------

When the whistle blows at practice, and we get sent for water after a particularly annoying session that the team just can’t seem to get right, I find both Lindsey and Sam glued to my side.

“Alright, time to fess up.”

Lindsey’s got her hand on her hip, looking expectantly. It’s reminiscent of Allie behavior and I’m not sure how to feel about it.

“They’re literally right over there.”

Coach is speaking in a tight circle with a small group. Kelley, Alex, and Tobin among them.

“Yeah. Exactly. Over there. Now, please? Who knows when our next chance is going to be.”

Lindsey pouts for dramatic effect. Sam at the very least passes me a Gatorade bottle full of water after she takes a squeeze for herself.

“Thanks…alright, fine. So…where do I start?”

Sam just looks curious. As though she’s willing to hear anything. Lindsey on the other hands bounces on her heels some.

“Well where did it start? Obviously after I left, right?”

I nod quickly, turn my cleats in the grass once, twice, and then settle in.

“Okay.” Deep breath in and out. “Okay, so you left, and I took a shower cause it had been after practice. And we were all pretty gross. And I thought my roommate had gotten back from class early, but it turns out Kelley had come to surprise me. She was just, standing there in the middle of my room. Like, I haven’t even figured out how she keeps getting into the building, let alone my room.”

Sam looks up then and tilts her head.

“You haven’t been able to figure out how she gets into the building?”

She asks like maybe I’m the preschooler who’s failed to place the appropriate blocks through the correct slots.

“…No?”

She actually snickers a little bit.

“She just has the desk assistant let her in. They’re in a bunch of the same classes. I was studying in the lobby the other week and watched it happen.”

It takes a little of the magic out of it, knowing it’s such a simple solution. But at least it’s a mystery solved. No need to worry that she’s been scaling walls (which I’m certain she could do) or flirting her way into and out of situations (which I’m equally certain she could do).

“Right…Okay. Moving on then…” Lindsey snickers too and I bat her on the shoulder. “Anyway, as I was saying. She came and surprised me, and I basically had a heart attack. I mean, really, who does that? But it was kinda fine, because of course _she_ does that. And then we ended up getting walked in on by my roommate.”

Lindsey throws up her hands.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa there. I think you skipped a thing or two.” She points a finger at me and then subtly points it in what might be the direction of Kelley. “You got walked in on? What do you mean _walked in on_?”

It’s hot enough out here without her comments, but I have to be the color of a fire truck with them.

“Ya know. _Walked in on_.”

Lindsey practically squeals. And punches at Sam’s shoulder softly in response.

“That was so fast!”

I can’t help but roll my eyes, and end up laughing when I find Sam doing the same.

“Well, I mean…it wasn’t like we’d gotten very far.”

Lindsey visibly deflates.

“Alright fine…continue then. I wanna hear about the random stuff we heard about earlier.”

I take another squeeze of water. I gauge the conversation happening a little ways away. Coach’s hands miming movements. Tobin’s intrigued face. Alex’s questioning one. Kelley looking bored while standing next to a stern Becky.

“We ended up going back to her room. Like I said before. It was movie night. And I guess she really did borrow this air mattress from Becky. It was pretty nice honestly. And I mean, there really was room to stretch out compared to what we’ve got. And we watched this movie she loves and she’d gotten us both Froyo, and that’s it. Literally everything you heard we did, but it wasn’t a big deal.”

Lindsey narrows her eyes, ready to question it, but it’s Sam who actually pipes up.

“No. Well I mean, probably. But that’s not it. That’s not all that happened.”

Lindsey and I both end up looking at her questioningly.

“How would you know?”

She just smiles. The one that seems a little silly until you end up getting to know her.

“You wore real pants to class today.”

Lindsey snorts. Loud. I can see a couple intrigued eyes flash our direction.

“So what? They’re just clothes?”

Sam shakes her head softly and then she grins.

“Em. You haven’t worn real clothes to class a single day since we got here. Not even Day One. So either you actually did run out of _all_ of your other clothes. Or. Something obviously had you in a good mood. S _omething had you dressing to impress._ ”

I want to protest. I want to tell her that that is the absolute most ridiculous reasoning I’ve ever heard in my entire life.

But honestly, maybe now that I think about it, maybe she’s not wrong. Maybe I did _kind of_ try to look nice.

_Well._

_Nicer._

It’s not like I was dressing up to be some kind of beauty queen. No thank you.

“So.” It’s Sam who breaks the silence now though.

“So?” I stretch my neck back and forth. Pull my socks tight again.

Sam looks pensive for a moment, as though she’s debating something important and then, “So…what do you plan on saying to Alex?”

And I know that I recognized it as being an issue before. And I know that I really recognized it as a problem needing a solution this morning. But it had still seemed like another abstract problem. Just another question that I don’t have an answer to. Because Alex is more of a Kelley problem, than mine.

Though I’m not sure that logic works anymore.

I’m not sure I’m not also under Alex’s wing now.

But before I can consider an answer for her, coach shouts and brings us back to attention so I don’t have the time to fail to answer. We have to head back to our spots to try to get this movement right again.

And the only thing echoing through my mind, with each hard rush of feet, with each eager effort, is Kelley’s words from earlier.

“ _We’ve got time_.”

But how much?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously should not have taken the time to write this when I need to be hardcore studying, but I've felt lingering guilt about leaving it hanging. I take a super important test a week from now and then should be back to regular updates. If you ever worry that I've died (which I have a couple times but have resurrected) you can find me here: 
> 
> http://writing-to-stay-awake.tumblr.com/
> 
> Till then, what's on your mind?


	17. the tangled web she weaves

Kelley slept straight through her alarm. She also slept through three phone calls and six text messages and if she’d have had a class in the morning, I’m pretty willing to bet she’d have slept straight through that as well.

It’s the explanation that she’s giving me while I’m towel-drying my hair and she’s barging through my door. It’s the reasoning she’s giving to me while she makes herself a comfortable seat on my bed while she’s explaining how Alex walked in to find her, still dead to the world, presumably in the exact position I’d left her in when I left to make it to class.

At least this time I knew she was coming. Had invited her and purposefully left my door unlocked.

“It was ridiculous. Literally, I wish you could have seen it. She went from post-morning sex glow to master sleuth detective in half a second flat.”

If I’m honest with you, I’m probably glad that I wasn’t there to see it. First of all, I don’t _really_ want to know anything at all about what Alex got up to in a fancy hotel room. Second, I don’t need to know that she gets an _actual glow_. But mostly, if it’s going to cause as much trouble as Kelley keeps making it out to be, then I know not being there was definitely for the best if Kelley’s goal is not to cause a scene.

“You managed to talk your way out of it though?”

She swings her legs a little and then pulls at a loose string on the hem of her shirt. One eyebrow raises cockily.

“Well, of course I did.” She grins. Dips her head. Let’s damp and loose hair fall over one shoulder. Let’s the words hang onto her lips, shift the look in her eyes. “I’m _quite convincing_ when I want to be.”

I almost regret how utterly attractive she can still be post-practice shower in whatever the nearest clothes she’s able to find might happen to be. In whatever facial expression she chooses to wear. With whatever tone of voice she wants to use.

_Almost._

“Oh, I’m _sure_ that you are.”

I don’t want her to know that I can feel my insides squirming. I don’t want her to know that I’d rather have my hands busy on something else right now.

“Alright miss skeptical. I can prove it.”

I already believe it. I already know it’s true. That there isn’t much she needs to convince me of in that department. But it’s never a dull moment when she thinks she’s being put to a challenge.

“And how are you going to do that?”

She shrugs. A quick up and down of her shoulders followed with a lazy smile.

“I don’t know. Somehow.” She locks her ankles together from where they hang while her voice softens. While she tilts her head and looks intently at where I’ve got my hands resting on my hips in a true skeptic’s power pose. “Come ‘ere.”

She holds a hand out in my direction. Just enough to be an invitation.

I’m rolling my eyes just a bit, because if she thinks that getting me to go to her is _convincing_ then she’ll need to do better than that. Still, with an indignant huff I find myself twining a finger to hers. Stepping over clothing on the floor and into where she waits. To where she’s unhooked her ankles to leave a gap for me to stand.

“This doesn’t count.” It’s a confident statement despite the fact that my chest is clenching hard under my ribcage as she rests our hands on her thigh and threads our fingers together. As I try incredibly hard not to think about our proximity.

“Of course not.” She finds a home for her other arm, resting it on my shoulder while she stares down with what turns into a grin. “Too simple.”

I want to laugh. It’s all so stereotypical. Like a choreographed dance I’ve seen a million times. The manipulation is evident.

“Oh sure. I’m simple. Got it.”

I don’t mean it seriously. It’s an evident joke. One I know that she’s in on.

But when I go to pull away. To put the accentuating mark on my sentence, the arm over my shoulder moves to grip me firmly in place. Hand held in hand squeezed tightly. I’m only halfway turned when both of her legs clamp shut like a vice.

“ _You’re_ not simple.” I can’t remember when she got so close. “I meant _that_ would be too simple. It needs to be a better example.”

She’s practically breathing in my ear.

She might actually be holding me up now, but I can’t be entirely sure.

I turn just my head to face her. Our noses practically touching.

“So what’s this then? If it’s not your _precious proof?_ ”

The corners of her eyes soften as she refuses to look away. As she chuckles on a heavy outbreath.

“Just thought I should say hello properly?”

I move to turn my body back to face her. The pressure of her legs gives just enough to allow it, but they don’t leave their comfortable hold.

“This is how you say hello properly?” I find my free hand shifting to find a place at her hip. “Should I be worried how you say hello when you go help Allie alone with her homework?”

She laughs. More of a giggle really. Which is…adorable in a heavy and throaty kind of way.

“I don’t know… _maybe you should be_ ,” she teases, moving so we’re basically nose to nose now. I can just smell the lingering scent of toothpaste on her breath.

“I don’t know about that.” I’m not sure where the rasp in my voice comes from. “I don’t always play well with others.”

There’s a hand at the back of my neck, thumb resting just on the base where there’s a hint of jealous buzzing.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” It’s just a whisper before she finally leans the rest of the way in. Before I can feel the tingle of her chapstick on my lips and the taste the hint of mint. She tugs at my lower lip again, soft but firm. Pulling until it’s between her teeth. Until I’m leaning heavily into her. Until I’m a little breathless. Until she releases and pulls away and I find that my grip on her hip has somehow gotten exponentially tighter.

“Well…hello,” is what I finally get to tumble out of my mouth when I regain my composer. All strangled and difficult sounds.

She just smirks and tilts her head to the left.

“Hey,” she murmurs back. Thumb rubbing small circles on my skin.

I, in typically attractive fashion, clear my throat before trying to speak again.

“So…about that convincing me?”

She laughs.   
She tugs us back together.   
She lights a fire in my chest.

\--------------------------------------------------------

Neither of us realizes what time it is until the title theme for another episode of Law and Order comes on. Kelley’s arm has been draped lazily over my side. She’s been tracing non-sense patterns with her fingertips. Pressing soft lips onto the side of my neck at random intervals.

We have a game we travel for in two days.

There’s a paper I should be writing that’s due Friday at midnight.

I have an ever growing amount of laundry I should be doing.

But we’re three episodes deep and my roommate has, with all good fortune, found herself staying late at the library tonight and I can’t bring myself to care about anything else right now.

“I think I’ve seen this one before,” she mumbles, sounding tired. Sounding like she’s half ready to doze off.

She’s rests her forehead into the back of my neck.

“Probably. But I think I say that every time I watch.”

I can hear her slow breathing. The way her whole body is relaxed.

“Why’s time gotta pass so fast. I don’t want to sleep.” It’s just a little petulant sounding. A slight whine.

I look away from the screen, where some other fictional person has been found by a passing jogger after they’ve been brutally murdered.

“Speaking of time…you’ve been here awhile. Not that I’m complaining of course. But where’s Alex and Tobin think you are?”

She shrugs behind me and buries herself further into my neck.

“Who cares…” she whispers

Which strikes me in the stomach in an off-kilter way. Because _she cares_. Cares way more than I do about what they might be thinking.

“Well…where’d you tell them you were going?”

She shrugs again.

“Didn’t say anything. They were talking in Tobs’s room. I don’t think they noticed when I left.”

I’m chewing at my bottom lip before I even realize maybe I’m a little nervous.

“Well…maybe you should get back before they start to wonder?” It isn’t that I care so much. Isn’t that I want to help give her a reason to leave. But one of us has to be the logical side of the brain here.

She doesn’t shrug this time. Just presses her lips against the top of my spine. Sends a trail of goosebumps down my arm.  Threatens to derail my train of thought.

“Maybe I don’t want to go.”

It comes out as a mumble, but there’s a feeling, an alertness that wasn’t there before. I’m not sure if it’s coming from me or her.

“Lauren will be back soon….”

I let it trail off. I let her decide where she wants to take that. How she wants to proceed when I’ve at least given her another out.

She hums as she traces her lips up another inch.

“Okay.”

_Okay? Okay as in, that’s fine?_

I cannot hide the way my face scrunches in confusion.

“What?”

As much as I’ve been enjoying being the little spoon, I turn to face her. To catch sight of her curious eyes. Of the thin red line in her cheek where her face has been pressed into a wrinkle in my shirt.

“She’ll be fine if you let me stay over, right? She’s been pretty cool about things.”

I’m metaphorically sputtering in her face. By which I mean, I’m stock still and silent and can’t form proper words. I’m not entirely sure how we ended up here.

I nod. Slowly. Just once.

“Okay then.” She reaches across me. Grabs her phone from where it’s been resting on the bed post. Taps the screen a few times and then holds it to her ear. Her other hand, the one mostly trapped between us is tugging absently on the waistband of my shorts.

_“Kell?”_

I can just hear Alex on the other side of the call. My spine is dropping out through my digestive system.

“ _Yeah, hey, I just wanted to let you know I’m not going to be back tonight.”_

An index finger traces the edge of the fabric. It feels calm. Collected.

_“Why? Where are you?”_

I hear the tone, the challenge in her voice. The unannounced accusation. The concern.

_“I’m with Allie. We need to finish this project before the game. It’ll be awhile. I’ll just crash with her tonight and see you in the morning, yeah?”_

I can’t hear the wheels spinning in Alex’s head, but I can almost imagine the way she accepts it. The way it allays whatever nerves she has about who she’s with.

_“Yeah, alright. Don’t let her fail. She needs all the help she can get. Tell her I expect to see her bright and early for breakfast with you. Only fair if she’s stealing you tonight.”_

I see the trap there. The one she’s laying to catch Kelley if she’s lying. The one layered under a gloss of acceptance. Kelley just chuckles and lets it slide off.

“ _Will do Al, see you at the usual.”_

_“Night Kel.”_

_“Night Al.”_

I can feel her grinning before she sets her phone back down.

She trails a finger down the side of my stunned and wary face. She kisses just beside my ear.

“Told you I’m convincing when I want to be.”

It’s such a warm and confident rumble in her chest that I want to forget all about the lies she just added to pile.

“With Allie, huh?” It’s all I can think to say. All that can maybe potentially capture the ‘ _what are you doing’_ mantra that keeps ringing inside my head.

“With you.” She whispers, tugging at my hip now. Silently encouraging me to face her.

I can’t understand why I’m allowing this. Why this charade is still driving full force. More curious over what she’ll do than _why_ she’s doing it.

“So how are you going to handle that tomorrow?” I turn to face her.

She fists a corner of my shirt and tugs, rolling me all the way to my side. Rolling me so we can be face to face.

“I’ll show up to breakfast tomorrow with Allie. And we’ll talk about the project.” She says it like it’s the simplest most uncomplicated answer of all time.

I’ve got narrow eyes for that one. I’m missing something here.

“Right…the project. The one that you’re working on…tonight.”

And that’s where she finally looks a little sheepish. A little like she knows she might be in trouble just a little bit.

“We’re done with the project already.” I stay silent. Keep searching eyes that keep staring straight back at me until she finally lets out a hard exhalation. “Okay, fine. Allie…might…sort of… _know_.”

I’m scanning her face for any kind of joke, but there isn’t one. And, honestly, underneath all the confusion as I try and keep up with her, I think I’m kind of a little excited. I isn’t like I’m the one with the issue. Isn’t like I want to keep this a huge secret. Makes this at least a partial indication that she’s alright with that too.

Though, it also serves as a reminder to the way the Alex issue is a Kelley issue. That I hadn’t even realized how much the hiding thing was an Alex (and maybe Tobin?) exclusive thing, rather than an everyone thing.

“Okay.” I whisper back. And she seems relieved, as though she was nervous that I’d care. “What’d she say about it?”

Kelley pushes her leg between mine as she wraps us up closer. Her skin, where we haven’t previously been touching, is cold.

“She asked when we we’re going on a double date.” Her face is stony and serious for a moment before she can’t hold it anymore and laughs. “Nah, I don’t know. Just…some stuff. Don’t worry about it.” She pauses and it makes me wonder what _stuff_ is. “Just…she’ll be fine to be my alibi.”

I quirk an eyebrow.

“We’ve watched too much Law and Order. _Alibi_ , _shmalibi_.” She laughs lightly. “Why don’t you just Alex you’re with me? It’s not like it’s a big deal or anything. And it’d be a lot simpler.”

I expect a joke. Or a reason. Or anything really. Which is why it suddenly makes me nervous that I don’t really get anything at all.

Nothing except. “It might be.” And I’m not sure which part that applies to. If she’s saying it’ll be a big deal, or if she means that it’d be easier.

“Might be?”  

She hums again. The contemplative hum. The one that tells me she’s thinking about what she wants to say. About what she _doesn’t_ want to say.

“Can we just…can _I_ just worry about one thing at a time right now? Can I just…have you to myself for a little bit?”

It’s not an answer. It’s definitely avoidance, but for that request? At least this one time? I think I can grant that.

“Okay.” I trail a hand down her side. I don’t like that she’s this quiet now. I don’t like that she’s not smiling. “I have a confession to make though.”

She looks at me intently. Something that might be nervous or might just be curious.

“What is it?”

I take a breath. I’m really not sure if this is a big thing or not. If this is totally out of the question, or just an _oops._ If I need to worry about her getting angry, or if this is just as simple as finding out that Allie is in on the secret.

“Lindsey knows.” I let it out before I can think twice about telling her. Her bottom lip falls open slightly as she casts an upraised eyebrow. “And Sam too, but that wasn’t really my fault, it just kind of happened. I wasn’t, like, planning on it or anything.”

She’s silent still. Her hands make no move to adjust their place on my skin. My nerves start to burn through every calorie I packed in at dinner. I think I might taste it rising in the back of my throat in worry.

“That’s it?” It’s a soft question.

“Yeah. That’s it.”

She lets out a breath.

“Okay.” It’s not the reassuring statement I’d hoped it would be, but there’s something in her eyes that says not to worry.

“Alright then.”

She chuckles just a little bit then. Slightly out of place and mostly to herself.

“Well that explains why they both trapped you at practice today.”

“You saw that?”

She snickers beside me.

“You’re pretty cute when you’re on the spot. Do you know how red your ears get when you’re embarrassed?”

My stomach churns at that. At the offhand comment. At the tension that we’re letting flow back out of the room.

“Oh, I know. Trust me. And now I have to murder them.”

She grins beside me.

“Nah, they’re just being good friends.”

She shimmies a little beside me. Using a foot to snag the edge of my comforter that’s shoved down toward the edge of the bed. Pulls it up and over herself. Smiling mischievously as she turns her whole body quickly away to hoard it.

“Hey! That’s mine you know.” I poke at her side where she squirms.  “The least you could do is share.”

She turns just her head back toward me. Looks like she contemplates thoroughly before she finally lifts an edge up. An invitation.

I shift forward. Wrap an arm around her. Fit our legs back together. Everything the same, but backwards this time. She presses herself back into me, fits herself against my chest, against my hips, causes a low rumble of something deep inside.

“You’re comfortable.” She finally says, after a few moments of silence, only broken by the background television.

It feels awkward and silly. Like something that doesn’t really need responded to, but I can’t help myself. “Um. Thanks?” She laughs softly in response.

I can feel the way she relaxes. Always a quick transition for her. Breath beginning the slow descent to evening out. I take just a second to reach over, to grab my phone and clumsily left-hand text Lauren that Kelley is staying tonight so she isn’t confused when she gets back.

Which is, presumably, when it dawns on me that maybe I just missed something during those uncomfortable moments. Something important.

“Hey Kel?”

“Mmm?” It’s a sleepy, comfortable mumble. Just enough to let me know she’s listening.

“You said handle one thing at a time?”

“Mhm.” She nods her head. Or at least the closest thing she can get to it from where she’s resting her head. A positive confirmation if nothing else.

“Can I ask you a question?”

She’s quiet for a moment, and I almost worry she’s going to ignore it. To feign sleep. But eventually I get a quiet “Yeah, what is it?”

I chew the words over in my mouth. Weighing whether I even want to ask at all. Whether I want to push my luck.

“What are you handling now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just going to casually drop this here while I shake out the rust and start working on making the next one longer.   
> In the meantime...thoughts?
> 
> I live here if you wanna drop by: http://writing-to-stay-awake.tumblr.com/
> 
> And to those of you (anons and others) who wished me luck and have stopped to share your thoughts and ask questions, I just wanna give another thank you. You're always welcome to visit.


	18. a taste you can't get out

I think this feeling might be what the movies and the television shows try to portray with their overdramatizations and awkward movements in the most serious of moments.

The overwhelming silence of waiting.

It’s the kind of feeling that makes you think you’ve got an elephant standing on your chest but you can’t figure out why. Can’t discern what’s making you so nervous except that there’s this warm body beside you with a mind you can’t read and a question hanging out into the air and you have absolutely, positively _no idea_ what words could fall from their lips.

And the silence, in all its glory, in the way it pervades the dark, it does nothing to hide the way my heartbeat thumps hard and fast against my ribs as I wait.

She doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, doesn’t utter a single sound for a long time. (At least, I think it’s a long time. _Everything_ is a long time when you’re waiting.) Then, slowly, in a way that feels nothing like mercy she adjusts herself. Leans into me. Tilting in my direction so I can see her face and the constellations of the freckles that grace her skin and with a smooth, subtle motion she rubs a soft circle into the soft part of my wrist.

I know, _I just know_ , that she can feel the way my blood pounds there and I hate the way that it gives me away.

She looks at me, and even though the angle is odd, the way she’s practically straining to be able to look at me, eye to eye, I see everything that I can’t discern there. In the way her eyes dance and can’t pick a place to land.

And I know that I shouldn’t be surprised that she practically knocks the wind out of me when she takes the kind of breath she does, but I’m still hit somewhat senseless when she finally let’s something slip through her lips.

“You.”

It’s the quietest whisper I’ve ever heard. It’s barely anything at all. But her lips tremble around it and I’m not sure what that means. Because it could have been anything, could have been anyone, but now it’s so very specific.

My mouth is dry. My heart won’t stop the drumbeat. _I’m not sure what it means._ I’m not sure if it’s good or if it’s bad. If it’s somewhere sitting in the grey in-between. And her eyes keep searching, but she’s not saying anything else. And I?

Well, I just don’t have any response for it.

So, I take a deep breath instead. And then another. And another. And I try to ignore the way her eyes have set me on some kind of fire, and I can’t figure out where I myself want to look, and I take a deep swallow (even though there’s nothing there) and force something up and out from the only place inside me that seems to have some kind of resemblance of thought.

“Okay.”

Because there’s nothing I can do with that information. Because it’s obviously just a fact, and she obviously was nervous. So nervous to say it and to admit it, and the _least_ that I can do is to admit that I’ve heard her. To accept it. (Whatever _it_ is.)

And then I repeat it.

“Okay.”

More solidly this time.

As though I actually know what I’m okay with (even though I don’t).

And somehow, someway, in some miracle, it’s apparently exactly the right thing. Because she softens again. Because she stops the dance her eyes have been making and they settle now straight on mine. Because the hand at my wrist squeezes just a little bit. Squeezes like she’s finding something solid to hang on to and she lets out a breath that I wasn’t even aware she was holding.

“I just…” She licks her lips, like they’re too dry for speaking, “I just never expected you.”

And the elephant leaves my chest. Marches off like a cascade of something blooming because it isn’t something bad. Because it isn’t something I’ve somehow done wrong. _Of course it isn’t._ S _he wouldn’t be here if it was_.

“Okay.” I repeat again. As though it’s the one word that can contain everything shaking inside of me. And, finally, “Thank you.” Because she could have said anything. She could have told me anything I’d wanted to hear, but she went for the truth instead and I’m so very, very thankful for that.

She nods, lightly. Turns herself all the way over so now we’re face to face, my arm still resting over her, my hand now at her lower back. She leans forward, presses her lips lightly against mine. And then curls herself so her breath hits lightly against my chest.

“Goodnight Em.” It’s just a mumble. The softest utterance that lets me know that, that’s it. That’s all I get. At least for tonight.

“Goodnight Kel.” All I can think to do is just to be there. To tug her infinitesimally closer.

So close I think I feel the way she finally slips off into sleep. Some time just before I can hear Lauren get back to the room. The quiet opening and closing of the door. The way the hallway light leaks in while she enters. I can feel her look us over, just once maybe before she gets to bed for sleep as well.

And me?

I’ve still got her whispers ringing in my ears when the sun starts to rise.

\---------------------------------------------------

The bus rumbles hard over a rough stretch of highway. It’s overly airconditioned and smells like some kind of fake bubblegum air freshener that’s unfortunately excessively common to travel companies. My eyes are heavy with the weight of last night’s paper writing extravaganza. Lindsey and I had both been frantically working well past team curfew to get our assignments written and turned in by the deadline while Sam happily stretched out and watched Netflix beside us. Overly happy with her refusal to partake in our procrastination.

Her presence was a welcome relief though. A magical appearance to help fish out just the right word for a sentence when our dead brains would no longer function.  And the snack stash and coffee she brought for us as a pick-me-up more than made up for the way we kind of wanted to kill her for being done already.

I mean, it’s not like it’s her fault that we waited till the last minute.

Lindsey just flat out pushed it off till the last minute because she didn’t want to do it.

I blame my procrastination on Kelley.

On Kelley, who always seems to be distracting me. On Kelley, who has been playing games and joking with Allie and Tobin and Alex in the back row of the bus since we left the school. On Kelley who thinks I haven’t noticed the way her eyes keep taking split second jumps in my direction every so often. On Kelley who probably thinks I’m dozing off and catching up on that missed sleep, because that _is_ what I’ve been trying to do for the last I don’t even know how long now.

But I can’t quite seem to get there. And maybe it has something to do with the way that I can hear her laughing from here. Joking in the all familiar way I’m used to them being together and I’m ecstatic that there doesn’t seem to be any tension right now, but I can’t help but wish that she could be next to me instead. A soft body I could be leaning into right now.

“You cheated!” Tobin’s yelling from the back while Alex just cackles.

“I won fair and square! I can’t help that I’m just naturally better than you are at this.” I can just make out Alex shrugging and looking smug. Kelley leans back into her seat like she’s seen this all before and is just ready to take in the scene.

Allie’s mimicking the action, listening to Alex and Tobin go back and forth until she suddenly leans into Kelley’s ear. Until I can just make out that she’s whispered something.

Kelley smirks and pulls out her phone.

Before I realize what’s happening, I’m searching for the source of the vibration in my blanket.

‘ _Hey up there.’_

She’s subtle still, but now I can feel her watching now. Can tell she knows I’m awake. Obviously alerted by Allie.

‘ _Hey back there.’_

‘ _What’s wrong? Why aren’t you sleeping?’_

I debate the answer. Debate what I want to tell her. Especially when the others are so close. Especially when Allie’s practically reading over her shoulder.

‘ _Can’t sleep. My back is getting stiff and I swear if we hit one more pothole…’_

It’s not the whole truth. It says nothing about the way I can’t seem to stop staring. About the way that I’d rather have her sitting next to me when I barely got to see her at all yesterday. But it’s all that I’m willing to say with an audience. She smiles. And when she looks up to catch me staring it turns into a grin.

‘ _Aw it’s not that bad. Henry up there is trying his best! You just gotta keep trying. Fake it till ya make it!’_

Allie’s practically rolling her eyes out of her head and I can tell she wants to say something about Kelley’s version of banter.

‘ _Easy for you to say, you’re not trying to sleep. And how do you know his name is Henry?’_

‘(1) _Well, I happen to be a pro at bus sleeping, so, regardless, I do know best. (2) I have no idea what his name is. But he seems like a Henry. So Henry it is.’_

I can’t help the smile that starts to form. The one I know I’m safe to have as I bury my face up to my nose in my blanket. The one I know she knows is there, but that the rest of the world is oblivious to.

_‘Oh, I’m sure you do.’_

_‘Of course I do. Haven’t we been over this? Never doubt me. It won’t be so much longer anyways. We’re getting close to the hotel and when we get there I’ll help you work out any knots.’_

Her grin is distinct. It matches the sly wag in her eyebrows. I almost hear the mental slap and stare Allie throws her. I’m almost surprised that Alex and Tobin don’t notice it. But then, they do tend to get overexcited when they’re competing.

‘ _Oh yeah?’_

My stomach pulls tight. This definitely doesn’t make me want to sleep.

‘ _Mhm. But only if you get some sleep. ;)’_

She meets my eyes down the length of the aisle.

‘ _Now I definitely don’t want to sleep.’_

The look on her face as she reads should be enough to keep me awake the whole way there. But she just puts her phone back in her pocket and cocks an eyebrow.

I roll my eyes hard and huff overdramatically, readjusting in my seat. Whether I get to sleep or not, I’m making damn sure she knows I tried. I’m making damn sure she knows what part of that conversation interested me the most.

I’m pretty sure I hear her laugh, and maybe Allie fake a gag, but I can’t be sure over the rattle as we hit another hole.

\----------------------------------------------

Getting to sleep should be among the best experiences on this road trip. Because I do manage it. _Eventually._ And now I think it should be among one of my greatest achievements. Especially considering how ridiculously long it took. Especially considering our driver should have his license revoked for hitting literally every pothole between the school and Tennessee.

And it is.

 _Sort of_.

But it also sort of isn’t. Because, by now I should have known better than to leave myself entirely vulnerable around a group of bored girls with nothing better to do than to pounce at their first ‘fun’ opportunity. At their first road trip victim. Even if Kelley told me to.

Especially if Kelley told me to.

But I didn’t, and now we’ve wound up here.

It’s the one person who used their phone without silencing it that woke me up. It’s the fake camera shutter sound. And before I was fully aware of what was happening I was awake. Jolting up from where I’d been slouched over and almost headbutting Allie in the process who’d been leaning in for a closeup.

The chorus of laughter that erupts is instant. Tobin’s giggling with a wide smile. Alex is smirking and chuckling from where she leans over a seat. Allie’s doubled straight over now, entirely unable to control herself. Sam and Lindsey, who are smashed in from where Moe has shoved them in to take a video, are peering over her shoulder, snorting with laughter. Kelley’s trying hard to smother a chuckle from where she is in the back of them all, but mostly she just shrugs and winks while she has the open opportunity.

I pull my jacket up over my nose and try to blink the sleep out of my eyes. I can feel the thick set of creases in the side of my face. I’m pretty sure I’ve been drooling.

“Yeah. _Ha ha._ You all got me. What’s a girl gotta do to get some sleep in peace around here.”

It’s Tobin who swings around and plops herself down roughly at the end of my seat grinning and poking at my sides. Proceeding to ‘Wake me up’ more fully.

“Sonny, next time try not sleep talking and maybe you’ll get away with it.”

Which is when it all goes from low-grade annoyance to high-grade fear over what I’ve said.

I might get whiplash from the way I turn to stare accusingly at Tobin, who holds her hands up innocently.

“What’d I say?”

If I said it doesn’t sound a little defensive, I’d be lying. And I know that I shouldn’t be quite so obvious. Shouldn’t say quite so much when I know that it’s just going to bite me in the ass, but I can’t help it.

She just laughs again, but there’s something there in the tilt of her head. In the arc of an eyebrow. A question on what I could be so worried about.

And I know that I’ll be lucky if Tobin is the only one who catches the entirety of my expression change.

I move on quickly, looking over Tobin’s shoulder. Catching eyes with Lindsey. She gives the smallest of _everything is fine, calm down_ nods. I’m not sure if the one who ‘accidently’ popped out information to Sam is the most trustworthy source for that, but I do try. Try enough to turn for Moe who’s practically cackling as she focuses on her phone.

“Hand it over Moe.”

She tucks it against her chest and plays faux innocent.

“Nothing to see here!” But the volume is still on despite being muddled and she knows there’s no true denying it. “Okay, fine, there might be something to see here. But it’s already on Instagram. No take backs now!”

They laugh while I scramble around to find my phone which has somehow ended up in the crack of the seat. In the next heartbeat I pull it up on my own feed. It’s a 100% easier solution than wrestling it off of her. She’s scrappy and I wouldn’t dare risk an injury pre-game. (Though I could consider it for after.)

The sound is faint and hard to hear. The bus engine doing quite a bit to cover the sound. I hold it up close to my ear. Can feel every set of eyes on me.

_It’s the Froyo order. It’s my wondering what flavor the yogurt is under all the toppings._

“Hungry Sonn?”

It’s Allie who’s laughing a little more knowingly now. Who’s seeming a little more entertained.

I laugh it off with her. I join the joke on my always being down for a snack. That of course I’d be dreaming about what I want to get after we win the game tomorrow.

But inside I feel a vague sense of panic twisting into the shape of the upraised eyebrow that questioned my defensiveness.

And almost more than that, I feel myself hoping unbelievable hope that the Master Sleuth herself neglects it. And I hope that Tobin lets it go.

That she doesn’t fit the pieces together herself.

Because there’s a delicate balance there. I know it more than anything.

And I’m not sure what Tobin will do if she’s asked to join in the lie.  

I settle back into my seat uneasily. Rubbing at the corners of my eyes and deciding what to do now. Not that there’s much that I can do. Not much that I can do to settle my uneasiness. Not much that I can do to thwart the monotony of the trip.

And that’s when my phone vibrates again. And I can only imagine the way Kelley’s holding back a smirk.

_‘Cake batter.’_

I turn to face to her and find her hanging over the back of a seat where the others have moved on to some other game. I find her staring straight back at me. As though she’s entirely unaware how obvious she’s being.

It’s so hard to remember how not to be obvious when she’s staring quite like that.

\------------------------------------------------

Coach begins passing out room assignments and door keys. She has a policy of upperclassmen rooming with underclassmen. Two to a room. Somehow expecting the older and the wiser to keep track of the young and the energetic. It only briefly came to mind that I could end up staying with Kelley as the ground rules for our stay were being laid out. The expectations for how she expects each of us to behave as though we’re adults (and that we don’t want to know the punishment for acting otherwise).

I’m not so lucky as that though. (Honestly, maybe it’s a good thing. A wise thing. Especially after that bus ride.)

Instead, I win the other lottery. I get Becky to room with. And even though I’m actually, really okay with that, somewhere deep down there’s a spot touched. A spot that’s overly curious on why this particular decision was made. Because, mostly, I’m not sure if that means that Coach thinks I’m the trouble she needs to worry about.

She ends her speech with a quick announcement that we’ll be meeting back up in the lobby in forty-five minutes for dinner, and then allows for us to disperse.

“Here Em.” Becky’s waiting patiently with my key outstretched. She lags behind the crowd moving toward the elevator en masse. I’m not sure if it’s the newness of hotel-stay away games or just that she’s my roommate, but I choose to hang back a step with her.

I choose to ignore the freckled face moving on up ahead.

“It’s pointless to rush.” Becky’s looking sideways in my direction with a smile. “It’s easier to just wait for the second set of elevators than to try and smash in with everyone.”  

She’s not wrong. By the time we turn the corner, I can see the way it all looks dangerously overcrowded. The way everyone’s holding their bags as closely as possible, scrunched inside the small area.

I hear Allie question out loud, as one of the elevator’s doors begins to close what everyone would do if she chose to jump on the way up. I think it’s Moe who squeaks out that she’d better not, and I can only laugh a little because honestly, she’d deserve it.

“We could take the stairs?” It’s an offhand question toward Becky who looks like she muddles it over for a moment before shrugging.

“Alright, it’s only 3 flights.”

Just before turning to walk back toward the door marked for the stairs, I can’t help but to laugh. Can’t help but to catch sight of Kelley who, with a near running start, smashes herself into the remaining elevator. Who’s priding herself on “fitting just one more!”

_Let’s be real, you and I, you know that she’s the real trouble here._

Becky holds the door open and gives me the honor of taking the stairs first. If pre-season conditioning does anything for us, it lets us waste no time getting to where we need to be.

By the time we exit back out into the hall, there are still teammates struggling free of the elevator. No one thought to consider what floor they needed to exit on when they crammed themselves inside.

Becky smirks at me. An _I told you so,_ written there.

“Broon. She’s wise beyond her years. Her advice is forever noted.”

Becky just laughs.

“Well the stairs suggestion helped too. We could have been waiting forever for the elevator to get back down at that rate.”

She finds our door and lets us in.

“Alright, for whatever reason, I feel like I just rode in a bus all day. I think I wanna change before dinner. Can we do that? Or do we have to go in team gear?”

She nods vaguely as she flings her duffle onto the nearest of the beds. Obviously claiming her place.

“You’re fine to wear whatever tonight. Team gear in the morning though. You alright if I take this one?”

It’s a little late, with her stuff already sitting there, but she’s nothing if not considerate.

“No, _I’m totally going to have you move everything_.”

She rolls her eyes and chuckles.

“Just get ready for dinner then Em.”

\----------------------------------------------------

Changing for dinner doesn’t take long. And it isn’t like we’re heading to a beauty pageant. So, by the time I’m done getting cleaned up, all of ten minutes later, I’m bored. Becky’s fussing with her contacts in the bathroom and muttering about how she may as well just wear her glasses at this point, when my phone goes off.

‘ _Come to my room! 324.’_

It’s Alex, but it’s only been sent to me. It makes me wonder if there’s a reason I’ve been summoned alone or if the others are just already there.

“You care if I meet you down there?”

I hear Becky drop something into the sink and mutter again before she calls out.

“Nope, go ahead. I’ll be down when I’m done here.”

I snatch my room key off the dresser and tuck it into my back pocket. It’s still warm out and shorts seemed like the way to go since we’re apparently walking down the street to some local restaurant.

“See you when you get down there. Don’t poke your eye out! We need you with full vision!”

I’m out the door before she has a chance to respond, and heading for the other end of the hall. I know there are a few rooms full of teammates on the way, but I have no idea who is where and I have no intention of knocking randomly and hoping for someone I know.

The door to 324 is propped open with the metal latch. Breaking the first rule of Coach’s spiel about what we absolutely should not do. She called it a safety hazard. (To be fair, true. But also…who can be bothered to open the door up every time.) I knock twice before opening the door and entering.

“Sonny!” It’s Tobin, fully relaxed and laid out on what I assume is Alex’s bed. She still has the strap to her duffle tucked around her and I can only guess that she literally hasn’t moved from the spot since she got there.

Kelley, who’s propped up by the headboard, just smiles in greeting.

Alex’s head pops out from the corner where she’s attempting to get a stray piece of hair to lay flat.

“So…what’s up?”

I take a seat in the desk chair. Forcing myself not to recognize that Kelley’s staring at my shorts, noticing that I’ve changed into something akin to “real clothes.” (Or, maybe it’s better to say I just can’t show the way I recognize it. Can’t recognize that maybe it’s not my clothes she’s looking at.)

“Nothing. We’re just bored and haven’t seen you lately.”

I chuckle lightly.

“We hung out the other day. You drug me around on your shopping trip.”

Alex scoffs.

“Did you hear that Tobs? We _drug her around._ I don’t remember hearing any complaints while she drank that diabetes coffee I got her.”

Tobin makes a sound like she’s thinking deeply.

“I think you’re right Al. I’m pretty sure I never heard anything.”

I shrug.

“Okay, fine. True. But listen, I can’t help that I had a monster paper to write the last couple days and Sam and Lindsey were the only ones who could help.”

Alex’s eyes narrow comically.

“But we haven’t seen you for _days_. Well. Besides practice and stuff. There’s been time for all of us. What could possibly be better than our company.”

She’s being dramatic, and I know it. It’s all an effect. But still somehow I can only hope the way my ears feel hot doesn’t seem so obvious. Because, yeah, I haven’t seen _her_ for days. But there is someone else I have seen.

And she’s sitting right there looking innocent as can be.

“Well I’m here now. And trust me when I say, _there’s no one else who even compares_. So…what do we know about what’s for dinner?”

Because a subject change is 100% what I need in this situation. Especially when I can just make out the sly tilt to Kelley’s raised eyebrow. Alex, however, seems to accept it and goes back to fighting the rogue piece of hair. Tobin, who actually decides to answer me, finally props herself up on her elbows and shrugs. Apparently, it’s a new adventure and that leaves a lot to the imagination.

“So, we have 25 minutes left until we have to be downstairs. Cards?”

Kelley’s innocently holds up a pack that she seems to have magically conjured.

Tobin sits up abruptly and throws the duffle bag strap off. She perches herself near Kelley, sitting cross legged. She grabs a small ball she’s had lying next to her. She tosses it my way, where I oh so casually fail to catch it and get smacked in the chest.

She just laughs and pats the space beside her.

I gather the ball up, toss it back, and move to sit in the appropriate place.

Kelley deals a round. And then another. And then Alex joins when she gives up and just lets her hair win.

“Don’t you dare cheat Tobs.”

Tobin throws her hands up innocently.

“I don’t need to cheat to beat you Al. It’s a fact.”

They sit at odds with each other as though this is some kind of serious competition.

Kelley deals another round. It’s slower with Alex playing like it’s a high stakes game. She’s just about to lay out her hand (presumably to bury us all and snatch victory _again_ ) when we’re interrupted. The ringtone is unfamiliar to me, but the way Kelley snatches it from her pocket, I have a suspicious guess. Pairing it with the heavy sigh she releases, I’m all but sure of it.

My stomach churns once, twice. Kelley doesn’t look at me. She looks at Alex. It’s a look I don’t recognize. Something I can’t read because for once, Alex isn’t angry. It’s something more like a nod. More like an excuse for her to leave.

“I’ll meet you in the lobby,” she announces softly before she answers her call.

She’s up and off the bed before I can really register what’s happening. Before I can register the way she’s cradling the phone to her ear, answering with a very tired sounding greeting. Slipping out the door, letting it slap back onto the metal latch without so much as a word.

I’m not sure if it’s the way I’m looking at the door still, or if it’s that Alex is collecting the cards and I’ve neglected to turn my hand over, but something prompts Tobin to speak.

“Something’s going on with her.”

My ears feel hot and I wonder just how red they might be.

“What do you mean?”

I hand my cards over. Alex shuffles them back in to the deck and then slides them back into the box before she checks her phone for the time. (We still have five minutes before we need to walk downstairs. There’s no rush but Alex is moving about likes she’s getting ready to leave).

“She’s just…she’s not acting like herself.”

Tobin looks to Alex for a kind of confirmation. What she gets is a vacant nod before Alex mulls over her words.

“She’s always on her phone. She hasn’t stayed in the room the last couple of nights. And even when she is there she’s awake half the night. And last night, she was gone _forever_ with Allie, and when she did finally come back, she left for a phone call.” She pauses and thinks for a second, like she needs to pick her words carefully before continuing. “I mean, she usually leaves for phone calls, but I think I heard her arguing from down the hall last night and that’s just…that’s just not Kel.”

There’s no way I can avoid the sinking feeling in my chest, even though I know I can’t show that to Alex. Because half of that I recognize. Half of that I recognize as being about me. I’m where she’s been. I’m who she’s been texting.

“Well. What do you think it is?”

I’m not aware of any phone call arguments, though. I’m not aware of anything that would have her upset and I’m more than a little curious. Curious about what Kelley isn’t saying to me. Curious about what Kelley isn’t saying to them. Curious about what Alex and Tobin know.

Alex starts to slip on a pair of shoes, signaling without words the way it’s time for us to leave.

I don’t neglect to notice the way Tobin’s watching me. It leaves a tingle at the top of my spine.

“Well,” she struggles at first to get her shoe on right, “I think it’s obvious.”

My stomach feels like it can’t contain itself. I can’t decide if it’s apprehension, or nervousness.

“And?”

Alex looks at Tobin briefly and then back at me. As though the answer should be obvious.

“If you ask me, it’s Justin problems. I think it’s rocky at best right now. I told her a thousand times it’ll never last with him. You can’t trust a cheater.”

Tobin’s face doesn’t quite match Alex’s appeased one. There’s something about the look in her eyes that says Tobin doesn’t look nearly so convinced. But she still nods as though it’s an absolute.

“Yeah. Don’t forget her dad too Al. She’s got a lot on her plate. She’ll talk when she’s ready.”

Alex hums.

“Yeah, that’s true.” She turns towards me as she has her hand on the door handle ready to leave. “I just…I just really hate waiting. Em, she hasn't mentioned anything to you, has she?”

And I swear if I wasn’t white before I’d be a ghost now. The way it shocks my system into submission. The way I know I have no choice now. The way my lips start forming words without a second thought or hesitation even as the question has me feeling sick. A full on flight response.

“No. Of course not. Why would she tell me anything she hasn’t told you?”

The lie rolls hard off the tip of my tongue.

I hate the way it tastes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It lives!


	19. can't be trusted to remember

Henry rumbles the bus hard across another pothole in the road. The sky outside of the windows is fading quickly but for now it’s still a sun-kissed peach and pink at the edge of the darkening mountain silhouette along the road. It’s just after nine, we’ve still got hours to go and the bus is uncharacteristically quiet.

Or maybe I’m just not sure what long distance traveling with this team is like. Maybe it’s entirely characteristic for the event and I just don’t know it. Maybe I’m just the odd one out.

Regardless of that thought, I’m sure that from the silence you wouldn’t be able to tell that we’ve had a winning weekend.

There was the spark of celebration that Coach allowed us to have for about the first thirty minutes following the game, and then, like a switch, the exhaustion settled in. One yawn after another.

Tobin, ever energetic, dozed off leaning against Alex’s shoulder. Her hands and arms wrapped up in a sweatshirt she couldn’t bring herself to actually put on. Alex, with her earbuds in, has her eyes scanning vaguely somewhere out the window intermittently between soft buzzing from her phone. (Most likely Servando, but who am I to guess.)

Sam fell asleep almost on a dime, sitting on the bus floor and using the seat as a place to comfortably rest her head. Lindsey, who had claimed the actual seat, was fully stretched out, legs running across the aisle. Feet bumping softly against my leg with each turn and rattle of the bus.

‘ _Hey up there.’_

Kelley’s face is softly illuminated from the back row. I can see her from where she’s reclined against the window. Her hair is a wet and disheveled mess after her quick post-game shower.

We haven’t talked about the phone call. We haven’t talked about what Alex questioned me on. We haven’t had time for anything more than side glances and _accidental_ run-ins. Fleeting touches and what-if moments. The push and the pull. The tease of what would happen if we could only end up somewhere alone.

 _‘Hey back there.’_ Her head turns towards me. She doesn’t exactly smile, but there’s something soft about her expression that feels like she is anyway. ‘ _What are you doing back there?’_

She looks away to read and I can’t help but to notice how she shifts her hair over to one side. The way there’s a stray piece that stays matted to her neck.

_‘Wishing we were off this bus already.’_

I want to chuckle, to make a comment about how that sounds suspiciously like something I said to her not all that long ago. But I hold it in, unwilling to start a round of sarcasm I’m not sure I can match right now. Not willing to disturb the general quiet.

_‘That’s it? Quite the exciting life you’re leading there.’_

She looks up again and the soft expression is back. She holds my eyes instead of responding right away. Just staring for a moment and it prickles the underside of my skin in a way I’m not familiar with.  

‘ _Maybe I’m_ w _ishing you were back here with me.’_ She waits for me to get it. Waits for the soft hue to rise up in my cheeks. Waits until she knows that I’m looking back at her before she adds, ‘ _Just think you’d be a better seat partner. Allie’s been using my leg as a pillow and now my foot is asleep.’_ She winks in just the right way under the low light to make it both joking and suggestive.

 _‘Nice to see where I am on your priorities.’_ It’s meant as a quick quip. A continuing joke. But there’s something I can’t quite trace that flashes across her smile as it drops. Something that rests in the corner of her lips.

_‘If only you knew Em.’_

And there’s something there that makes my chest ache. Something I can’t quite grasp that’s sitting just out of reach. Something that pulls and nags and summons a tendril of questioning bravery.

_‘You could tell me?’_

There are a lot of things I wish she would. A lot of things I wish that I knew. A lot of questions I wish that I could get myself to ask for answers to. But I’ll settle for this. For where this might bloom and spread.

 _‘Maybe.’_ It isn’t quite the answer I wanted. I can just imagine the sigh that might accompany it. The one that says, ‘I’m saying maybe, but you know that I won’t. Not yet anyway’. _‘Can I ask you something?’_

There’s a small drop of something that plucks a chord in my chest. That plays a nervous note on a heartstring.

_‘Anything.’_

‘ _Can I stay with you tonight?’_

The response is immediate. As though she’s had it typed and waiting. As though she was always going to ask, she was just buying herself some time.

 _‘What will you tell Alex?’_ There’s something heavy in my stomach. Memories of conversations floating up and through my ears. Something that doesn’t like the way I’m asking this when all I want to be doing is saying yes.

I can almost feel a twinge of something rise up in her from where she’s sitting. There are rows separating us, but it’s still so evident now that I can start to see it. It digs at something in the back of my brain. At the piece whispering about how Alex is going to wonder and no amount of ignoring that will make it go away.

_‘It doesn’t matter. I’ll take care of it. Can I?’_

I want to say no. I want to say that she needs to really figure this thing out between them. I want to tell her that whatever this issue is, it should be taken care of before things start to get any worse. Before I end up getting dragged into the center of it. I want her to know that there’s a part of me that absolutely _isn’t_ okay with the way that she’s lying to the people she calls her best friends. By omission or otherwise.

But there’s also a part of me that just can’t say no to what she’s asking. Maybe a bigger part. A part of me that just doesn’t care that there will eventually be a price to pay. A grey part. One that’s hard to admit is there, but that just feels incredibly selfish right now.

And I’m already in the middle of it all, aren’t I?

_‘Of course you can.’_

Because how do I say no when she’s looking at me quite like that? How do you turn down that smile? How do you gather that kind of strength?

_‘Now I really want to be off this bus.’_

 I ignore the pit in my stomach.

The one that tells me I _should_ feel bad about this.

Because I know that it’s wrong.

But I just don’t care.

\-------------------------------------------------

When Henry finally gets us home and back to campus, it takes a couple of minutes for everyone to open tired, sleep-ridden eyes. In the disorganization as people are waking up and gathering their things, Kelley finds her way to my seat. There’s the barest glance of her fingertips on my stomach as she grabs my attention away from my own bag.

“Can you meet me in front of my dorm in like, ten minutes?” She’s hushed and glancing towards the back where I know Alex and Tobin are waiting for the aisle to clear so they can walk.

Lindsey’s looking at us curiously. Just a side eye across the aisle as she hoists her backpack and leans a tired forehead on Sam’s shoulder. They’re both waiting for Crystal to start walking so they can file out behind. Her eyes have me self-conscious about it all.

“Um. Yeah? I guess? Like, do you want me to walk? Or drive? Or what?”

She’s pushed a little further into my seat as Ashlyn gets impatient and squeezes around. That same hand that got my attention presses more firmly against my stomach as she balances herself. Ashlyn muffles a vague apology but doesn’t stop from where she’s bumped her.

I barely hear it. Too focused on the shiver that wracks through me.

Kelley hums as she thinks and then settles.

“Car.”

I nod quickly, just once. The hairs on the back of my neck are starting to rise in a way that screams either danger or paranoia. I can’t decide if I see Tobin’s eyes dance away from us, or if it’s just a trick of the fluorescent light.

The pressure on my stomach is suddenly gone as Kelley finds her way down the aisle through the path Ashlyn cleared. As she moves to gather her bags from where they’ve been stowed underneath.

I follow Lindsey and Sam out when they finally get moving.

Henry is standing by his seat as we walk out.

“Thanks for driving us.”

It seems like the polite thing to say. Even if he did hit every pothole in a multi-state radius and could really use a refresher course at bus driving school. He just smiles and nods and waves us on.

It’s only with the barest of glances that I notice his nametag says Mark.

I’ll never remember that. He’s definitely a Henry.

Sam and Lindsey meander after me once we’re free of the confines of the cramped coach. Lindsey clears her throat in that way that says she wants my attention at least twice as we search for and claim our stuff. I know what she wants to talk about. I’m as certain about it as I’m uncertain about what Tobin was looking at.

I dig through my bag for my car keys as she watches me. I’ve already felt them twice, but I keep searching regardless. It gives me a reason for silence. A way to put this off.

“So. Em…what’s going on with you tonight?” She drags her feet lightly through the gravel in the parking lot. Just a pinpoint on the emphasis for how she wants to talk.  

While her curiosity seems to have finally gotten the better of her, I can at least appreciate her newfound sense of subtlety.

“What’s going on with me when?”

I’m not really dodging the question so much as buying time for a better response. Because we both know that I’m a guilty party here. But It’s not like I have any idea what I want to say.  It’s not like I even have any real answers to that question.

I’m not sure I even know the questions anymore.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

I finally pull my keys out and pop open the trunk. Lindsey and Sam promptly shove their things inside. I’d agreed to drive them around to the front of the dorm rather than let their fragile legs break off in the walk back from the athletic department parking lot.

“Honestly?” I drop my bag in the trunk too, close the deck lid, and turn around to face them both with a sigh. They’re both watching attentively. Curiously. “I have…absolutely no idea.”

I drop back and lean heavily against the bumper. It’s equal parts relieving and terrifying to actually finally admit that out loud.

Sam looks at Lindsey hesitantly before she decides to speak. Like maybe they’ve talked about this amongst themselves.

“Well, I think you need to figure out what you want here.”

Her words are soft. Gentle. Searching for something.

“I know what I _want_. That’s an entirely different question.”

Sam nods with a quick dip of her chin.

“And that is…?” She lets it trail off. Waits for me to fill in the blank.

“Her.” I wipe hard across my face with both hands. Twist my lips between my fingers as I decide what to say next. Sigh heavily in a way I know is entirely unnecessary, but that really just feels good. And then let myself continue. “I just didn’t know it was going to be…quite like this?”

Lindsey is the one who steps forward here.

“Well. We talked about this. You knew she had a boyfriend. Or a…a boy _thing_? A boy _whatever_. You knew if you were going to do this, that would be a factor you were going to live with.”

There’s a voice that rises up somewhere in my head. One that shouts, _but not forever_. Still, that’s not the thing that has me hesitating the most. Because, yeah, the thought of him still makes my skin prickle. And the thought of him with her brings out a primal kind of jealousy I didn’t know I had. But it isn’t him being there that has my stomach tied in a knot about this.

“I know that. That’s not the problem. Well, I mean…it’s a problem. But it’s not _THE_ problem. Not right now anyway.”

They both tilt their heads, looking at each other, but neither speaks when they turn back to me. They wait for me to continue on my own.

“It’s…Alex. I don’t know why it’s such a problem. I don’t know what it is that has Kel wanting to keep things from her.”

Both of their faces seem to darken a bit. In the metaphorical manner. In the way their shoulders fall a bit under the weight of it. The way they look different at this angle.

“I don’t know Em. But if I were you, I’d talk to Kelley about it. It could get…messy.”

The hum of acknowledgement that springs up out of my chest is quick. I know what I need to do. It doesn’t make it any easier though.

“You’re right, I know. Come on. I don’t really want to talk about this anymore. And I don’t have a lot of time.”

I swear Lindsey’s ears physically prick up.

“Why don’t you have time?”

I move towards the driver’s door, opening it as I roll my eyes. It’s time to go.

“Because.”

I slide into the driver’s seat and shut the door behind me. They follow quickly.

“Because why?” Lindsey looks up at me from the backseat in the rearview mirror. Her eyes holding the steady uncomfortable gaze.

I turn the car on and back out before I give her what she wants. Get us moving to the dorm before she can continue.

“Because I’m seeing Kel tonight.”

Sam looks over from the passenger seat. Her eyebrow raised in question.

“Em…”

I sigh heavily. I knew this was coming.

“Just stop. The both of you. I’ll…figure it out somehow. I’ll talk to her.”

I try not to notice the way neither of them look convinced.

\-----------------------------------------------

It takes all of a minute or two to drive around to the dorm. And another two minutes to park in the waiting zone outside and run my bag upstairs and get back down to my car. None of which is important to you, except to say that I still have too much time to spend _patiently_ waiting outside of Kelley’s dorm.

A third song starts to play and I’ve gathered all the random tidbits of trash I’ve let accumulate into a stray bag before Kelley comes out from the front door. She’s got a bag slung over her shoulder and her steps are light and quick. It only takes her a second to notice where I’m parked. She’s in my passenger seat before I even have time to let her know she can put her stuff anywhere she wants to.

She just sets it between her feet on the floor.

“Can we just go somewhere? Anywhere?”

It’s hard not to notice the way her face is set hard and her jaw keeps clenching.

“Of course.”

I make a point to not think of what conversation she might have just come from. I don’t really want to know what kind of reason or excuse she just gave for leaving. (I should though.) And I’m not sure where I had thought I’d be driving to, especially with no real destination in mind, but we end up winding into downtown before I realize where I’ve really gone. (Directions are still not my strong suit here.)

Kelley’s been entirely quiet since we left. Just eyes staring out through the windows as the buildings drift by. Time passing to ease the clench of her jaw. Under the streetlights of main street, her left hand finally finds its way across the center console. Rests itself on the outside of my upper thigh. Thumb rubbing back and forth in the smallest of motions.

I won’t lie to you. I had trouble before. Now it’s incredibly hard to think clearly about a possible destination.

We cruise down past the art district and the empty warehouses. Make a right past a block of law and accounting offices. We end up in a brightly lit portion of town with people meandering about on the sidewalks.

No one seems to care that it’s after midnight.

It would be a wise guess to know we’ve stumbled onto the downtown bars.

“Can we stop at that McDonald’s?”

She’s softer now. Gentler than when she got in the car.

I pull into the drive through without bothering to answer.

“What do you want?”

She rests her head back into the headrest (like maybe it might weigh a veritable ton right now) and just looks at me. Thumb still working in maddeningly even motions.

“Just a tea. And maybe some fries.” It’s not angry. Or sad. Or anything really.

I nod in confirmation. It’s all I can really think to do.

And then…without thinking too much about it, my right hand drifts from the steering wheel. Finds its way to where hers is still resting on my leg. Covers it softly.

I’d never noticed how small she can seem at times.

It only takes her a second to twist our hands together. As though this is what she’d wanted the whole time. As though this careful fit is everything she could possibly need.

“We can go back after this.” She just keeps looking at me. In a way that’s entirely unnerving. In a way that has me feeling naked despite being wholly clothed. “I just needed to get away from campus for a minute. Away from everything. Everyone.”

I squeeze softly at the hand in mine.

“I’m someone.”

She smiles affectionately.

“You’re not just _someone_.”

My stomach pulls tight and she turns our hands again. Uses her leverage to pull them apart enough that she can get her thumb onto the crease of my palm. Tracing the line there like she has for what feels like a hundred times now.

She lets me order for her and she doesn’t argue when I tell her I’m paying. And she stays silent as we turn the car around to make the drive home to campus.

I’m honestly not used to her being so quiet.

We’re halfway back when I decide it’s time to ask her about it.

“Something wrong?”

She peels her eyes away from the window to look at me.

“No. Nothing’s wrong.”

I can’t help the questioning hum that seems to bubble up from the center of my chest. I know that she’s lying to me. I just can’t decide if this is an occasion where it’s okay.

“You sure? You’re awful quiet for someone who played phenomenally today.”

She smiles again and squeezes my hand.

“I’m good. I’m just…I’m just tired and I’m where I want to be now.”

My heart pounds harder than it should in response. I hope she can’t feel it through my fingertips. Through the quiver in my wrist. I hope she can’t feel the way it’s tugging at me inside.

Whatever she has in her head. I let it stay there.

\------------------------------------

When we get back to my dorm and park, she doesn’t move immediately to get out. She rests the fries on the console and we share them looking through the open sun roof. It’s funny the way that it works. She loves the squishy ones that I hate. She hates the crisp ones that I love.

Whatever strange tension existed before, it drops away as we start to talk. As we joke about this weekend. About the great start we’ve had to our season. About our sisters who’s lives both seem to be more interesting than ours at the moment. About Tobin and Alex. About Allie who loves knowing that this is a thing but tells Kelley she hates knowing the details. About Sam, who panics about everything that happens in her own life, but who is suspiciously good at giving advice to other people. About Lindsey who frequently wants to know the details but can never get them.

Finally though, when the fries run out, she wipes her fingers clean with a napkin and just sits back quietly again. Staring.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” I wipe at my mouth but don’t feel anything. She doesn’t answer. “In my teeth?” I flip the visor down and look quickly. There’s nothing there.

I turn a suspicious face back at her. She’s still just staring. A soft smile there now maybe.

“There’s nothing on your face. There’s nothing in your teeth.” She chuckles softly as though that’ll make it better. Or maybe as though there’s something funny about it all that only she knows about.

“Then…what is it?”

She hesitates. I see it in the quick flick of her eye sideways. But it’s only for a second. It’s so brief it’s almost not even worth mentioning. And then? Then she’s jolting into action. Leaning hard over the center console. Trash swiped away and meaningless. Right hand pulling me closer. The whole of her straining until she has her lips on mine.

Until all I can taste is salt and sweet tea.

Until all I can taste is her.

Until I’m leaning right back into her with all my words and worries forgotten.

She’s got her pinky to the pulse point in my neck that I know is hammering heavily and I’ve got mine bunching up in her shirt like maybe that’ll stop me from whatever urges are overtaking my brain cells.

When she pulls back, it’s only far enough that our foreheads rest against each other. Her eyes are still closed and she’s got a thumb just tracing the edge of my bottom lip.

“I’ve just missed you.”

I can’t help the chuckle that seeps out.

“I’m right here. I haven’t gone anywhere.”

Her eyes open and the way her pupils are dilated leaves a ringing at the base of my spine.

“You’ve been right there and out of reach. It’s been the worst.”

I swallow hard. Throat suddenly feeling incredibly thick.

“I’m right here.” I repeat. Fingers squeezing at the fabric of her shirt like that might say what I need it to. Like that might tell her that she always could have come to me. That it’s her choice not to have.

She blinks a few times and then whispers a, “I suppose you are.” She hastily kisses me once, twice. Like she’s replacing other words that are on the tip of her tongue. Like if she doesn’t she’ll end up saying something she isn’t sure about. When she pulls back, it’s with a sigh. “We should get to bed?”

I nod, in what might be the most dazed way I’ve ever done. It’s so incredibly difficult just to stay on pace with her. I gather the trash and step outside. She’s already waiting with her backpack. With a smile. With a look in her eyes that tells me I’m in trouble. That reminds me there were a lot of things I was supposed to talk to her about.

There’s the vague image of Sam and Lindsey in this car. Both with eyes full of concern and questions I know I need answers to.

But I just can’t seem to remember what they are.

\-------------------------------------

When we get to the room, there’s a note on the door whiteboard that I wasn’t expecting. Lauren isn’t home. That she won’t be back until tomorrow. It doesn’t strike me as being entirely important until I notice the way that Kelley’s eyes pick up on it.

She doesn’t say anything, but I can see the change in her face.

My stomach lurches in that way that it does when you aren’t sure what might happen next, but you’re envisioning a couple different possible directions.

She sets her bag on my desk chair. The one place safe from the mess I’ve been accumulating and hops herself up onto my bed. I need to change my shirt. I still feel like I’ve got bus travel residue on my skin.

I don’t think I’d be wrong in imagining the way it feels like she’s staring.

“So. Where’s Lauren gone off too? I was looking forward to saying hey.”

I’m rifling through drawers trying to find the black one I’m sure I’d put in here after a laundry extravaganza.

“Uh…I dunno. She didn’t mention anything.”

I find it. Exactly where you’d expect it. In the bottom. A wrinkled mess.

She’s got a smirk on her face when I end up turning around, shirt in hand.

“So I get you to myself after-all?”

I’m trying not to be self-conscious while yanking one shirt off and putting the other one on. Fully aware of the way her eyes are tracking their way across my skin.

“I suppose you do.”

Kelley just smirks, nearly winking at me I would guess, before she looks down at her phone. I double check the floor for possible obstacles. Memorize the places and go to switch off the light. Music starts playing softly from the phone she sets on the post of my bed. I’m learning that she doesn’t have a close relationship with silence. With the flip of the switch though, she’s nothing but a streetlight outline sitting up at the edge of my bed, reclined easily on both hands. Just a soft orange glow outline with a tilt to her head even I can see in the dark.

Goosebumps prickle along my arms.

I take careful steps back towards the bed. Avoiding a book and a stray hoodie that want to trip me up.

“Hey Em?” Her voice is low and thick.

It hits me. Forces a pause to my approach, standing just a step away.

“Yeah?” She sits herself straight back up. Leans towards me a little maybe.

She reaches a hand out across the space between us. Waits for me to reach back and take hold of it before she pulls me that last step towards her. Pulls me so I’m standing right in front of her. Squeezed in by waiting legs. I’d never thought about the height difference with the lofted bed.

“I really, _really_ like that shirt on you.”

She untangles our hands and leans down. Takes my face in a soft grip. Teases herself so closely that I know she can hear the hard, frustrated edge to my breathing before she finally kisses me.

She runs a light thumb down my neck that sends a shiver down my spine.

“Um…” Words are so difficult like this. “Thanks.”

I can’t even dwell on the lameness of my response. Can’t stop to think about how of all the times, now isn’t when I should be proverbially face-flopping. Can’t linger because she’s suddenly got herself leaned into my ear. Breath hot on the skin. Lips lingering.

“Would you maybe…” I can’t think properly with the way each word enunciates against my skin. “…want to join me up here?”

I know what I should say. That I should set boundaries. That I should respect a reasonable pacing of events. That I should be careful. Especially with the tangle that’s developed here. But when she’s got her teeth tugging gently at my earlobe, when she’s got just the tip of her tongue tracing patterns along the ridge of cartilage, I know that I won’t.

I know I can’t play things safely.

I know that it’s hopeless to even try.

She takes my hand to help pull me up onto the lofted the bed that I can’t deny usually takes a running start to get onto.

Pulls until somehow she’s flat on her back staring straight up at me. Softly gripping onto forearms that rest on each side of her. Forearms attached to hands that aren’t quite sure where exactly they want to be at the moment, but that are perfectly content just being close to her.

She leans up, nips at my bottom lip before she rests her head back down again.

“Listen...I just think you should know…” Her hands wander up to my shoulders, down along my sides. There’s never any hesitation there. I think she knows by now, after so many times asking permission, she has a freedom to wander. “You’re the only girl there’s been.”

It’s not something that I hadn’t already guessed. With years of Justin there’d have been no room for anyone else. But I’m not quite sure what she wants me to do with that information.

“Okay.” I work hard to regain the composure in my breathing. “Are you, um, nervous? Or...or have questions? Or…anything?”

The way it sputters out might be the lamest thing I’ve ever done to myself. And I’m almost horrified when the first thing she does is chuckle. I almost want to duck my face, hide, get up and walk out. But it dawns on me when she laughs, what she does is break the anxiety. Breaks the way it feels like it needs to be perfect.

We both know that we could have planned for a perfect moment.

But sometimes there’s something more alluring than the spontaneous.

And she does it with another kiss. Another unflinching kiss.

“I just wanted you to know.” She drags her fingertips back up my sides, along my shoulder blades, down my spine. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

She leans her head up, kisses at the corner of my jaw, just below my ear, down my neck, pauses at the pulse point. All heat and teeth and soothing lips.

“Okay.”

It’s hard to even get the one the word out. Hard when my brain is spending all of its available focus keeping me suspended above her.

“I’m not nervous.”

And I believe her. I one hundred percent believe her as the words rasp out from between her lips. As she stares with dilated eyes that I can just make out between the shadows and the outside glow.

“Okay.”

I believe her with every centimeter of skin she touches.

As she shifts below me, smoothly, so there’s so very little space between us.  

But she shouldn’t believe me. All shaky limbs and racing thoughts.

I couldn’t be more nervous if I tried.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots going on in life! But we still keep chugging along. Thoughts?
> 
> http://writing-to-stay-awake.tumblr.com/


	20. headfirst into the deep end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this took awhile. I want you to know I listened to your feedback and I'm doing my absolute best here to give you what you want.  
> Consider this a self-contained direct continuation of the last chapter. (That I'm considering merging sometime down the line maybe.)  
> This one's for you.

When we were little, our parents used to take us to the park. Emma and I that is. She used to run screeching to whatever interested her the most that day. The jungle gym, or the concrete tunnels, or the monkey bars. It didn’t matter too much to her as long as she could climb it.

Without fail though, I would always run for my favorite thing. The swings. Needing a push start when my feet wouldn’t even touch the ground. Then kicking hard, back and forth. Whole body thrown into the motion. Using every single muscle to get the swing to go as high as I could possibly get it to go. Higher and higher, one pendulum swing at a time.

Why does this matter, you might ask? (Why does this matter in a moment quite like this?)

Because, inevitably, there would be a moment, where everything just finally felt right. A moment where I’d grip hard to the metal chain and I’d close my eyes tightly shut. I’d lean back, continuing to throw my legs out. Parallel to ground as it rushed by below me.

I’d feel my insides squirm and fight and pull tight inside as I dropped back and forth in that even rhythm.

It matters, because then, quite a lot like now, I couldn’t help but to feel the terribly exhilarating fear of falling. The exhilaration of flying.

Hovering here above her, in this moment, feels a lot like that. Gripping hard into the sheets the same way I used to grip those metal chains. Gripping like somehow, someway, it’ll keep me grounded. Keep me in place even as somehow I find my stomach plunging all the same with her there below me. Even as the muscles in my forearms start to burn just from holding my own weight above her.

(More than) A little of afraid of what might happen if I just let go.

But there’s no flying off the swing to be nervous of here. Not in this moment. There’s no close-eyed back and forth rocking of the swing to pull at my insides. There’s no swing at all. There’s just the off-kilter metronome beating of my own rapid heart. There’s just her breath and mine tangled and weaved into whatever music she has playing now. (I know that it’s there but I barely even register it.)

The only thing pulling hard at my insides is the light pressure fingertip trails she’s making.

Fingers that softly walk along the bottom hem of my shirt. That glance at bare skin in ways that ask for _every_ sort of permission. That ask, even though I’ve probably already granted her every admission before I even knew the question.

I think she gets it though.

Gets it without having to actually vocalize her thoughts. Without me having to say anything as to mine. As I do nothing to stop those curious fingers as they creep beneath the thin fabric. Do nothing to stop the slow, gentle dance they’re making. As I can’t help but lean into the warmth and the pressure that lightly skim my sides.

 “Come ‘ere,” she finally whispers around a soft smile, moving to tug gently on the front of my shirt. Pulling me down closer to her. Closer so she doesn’t have to strain nearly so hard to capture my lips between hers. So she doesn’t have to struggle to reach me from where I’ve been suspended above her. “You’re so far away.” Even though I’m nothing of the sort.

Her teeth tug at my bottom lip. Pull and then soothe. Both hard and soft as her hand twists itself into the fabric of my shirt. Bruising and appealing in equal measure.

Each nip and heavy rushed breath sinking low into my stomach.

When she pulls away, even if it’s only slightly, even if it’s only for a moment, it doesn’t matter that the darkness continues to hang over us. That we’re both only barely illuminated silhouettes. I feel like I’ve never seen her so clearly.

All dark eyes and sharp angled half-bitten lips.

“God you’re just…you’re just…” I can’t seem to get the words to come out over the thick lump in my throat. Over the growing flame of whatever is brewing deep inside my stomach. But I can see some of the recognition in her eyes. Can see the way she might understand what I’m trying to say. Or some variation. (They’d probably all be correct. Even you know that by now, don’t you?)

She just tilts her head slightly. Waits for me to try again.

But I don’t. I know that I can’t. I know that in this instant, even with _beautiful_ on the tip of my tongue, I’ll never get it to fall from my lips. So I try to tell her the only other way I know how.

With lips pressed again to lips that smile. That press along the outline of her jaw as she chuckles ever so slightly. That find her ear, paying it the same attention she had earlier to mine. Tongue to the inner ridge. Breath hot over the surface. Like the whisper of something important. (She’s what’s important, even if it’s so impossible to say it.)

Mouth with teeth and lips the gently tug on the skin of her earlobe until her chuckle trades for breathing that’s heavier than I’ve ever heard it. Lips that move down the tense exposed outline of the tendon in her neck. Letting teeth scrape against the pulse point as goosebumps prickle her skin.

“Em…” She starts.

It’s something like a question. Something like an interruption. But the voice she uses is cracking and low. Something I’m so incredibly unfamiliar with. I don’t have a response for it. Nothing except a deep rumble of that something that’s low inside that I have no idea how to express as her lips curl around my name.

Instead, what she gets is the way I finally get a hand to finally, finally uncurl itself from its grip on my sheets. (From its precarious safety hold.) Landing with a kind of tentative curiosity (tentative need) against the hard outline of the front of her hip. Thumb dragging, pressing along the bone. Pretending to ignore the way her breath hitches. (There’s no ignoring it. I want to repeat the action a hundred times.) Dragging itself upward in a slow smooth motion, (because down feels like a little too much bravery at the moment) pulling the fabric of her shirt up a few inches as it wanders up. Exposing tiny pinpoint freckle constellations. (The smallest of patterns I want nothing more than to memorize.) Taking the time to circle with her every other outbreath.

An unintentional rhythm.  

The fingers she has twisted into my shirt pull harder at the fabric as I finally find the bottom of her ribs.

“Emily…” She tries again. Still thick and heavy. Mixing in with the slow beats and the crooning voice that I can’t pay a single bit of attention to that keep the silence of the air around us at bay. (That help keep every other rational thought at bay.) But this time there’s less of a crack to it. There’s less of question. There’s more of a definite reason (even if she hasn’t explicitly expressed it).

I can’t help but to pull back from her. Even if it’s only just slightly. To measure what’s there. To really see the look on her face. All dilated pupils, all flushed cheeks. All open unadulterated stare. (When did that happen?)

We breathe together. I’m not sure I even realized how my own chest had quickened in pace until I feel the way her eyes capture mine. How my rapid heartbeat has demanded it.

I want to say something. I want to find a way to open my mouth and just express the way that I’m feeling. To express the way my chest feels like it’s expanding, even if it’s only on the inside. Even if it doesn’t really make sense because I know that it’s not really going anywhere. But with eyes locked on eyes, I can’t make my mouth form the words. Any words. Nothing comes out. I can’t get myself to say anything at all. (I’m not even sure what it is that I’m feeling if I’m entirely honest. Not even sure I could describe it if I could even get my lips to cooperate.)

But it’s a moment of the slightest hesitation. And don’t we know what happens when there’s moments left open like that?

Who here in this situation is always the brave one, jumping head first.

It’s Kelley who springs into action. (And who didn’t expect that, really?)

It only takes her a second to drive forward. To connect her lips back to mine with a grin as she hums with open neediness against me. To pull both of her hands back and away from where they’ve been wandering against open skin so she has something to drive up from. To lift herself, entire upper body pressing forward until she has enough balance to cradle the back of my neck with her left hand. Index finger tangling with a few escaped baby hairs. To press her whole self against mine in a way that I can’t quite explain because it happens so quickly.

Happens in the blink of an eye. (If mine were open, that is.) Happens in the span of time it takes for her to grin against my lips.

Happens in the time it takes for the smooth turn she makes.  Pressing us both to one side. Pushing until I’ve turned and my shoulder rests firmly against the cold wall. My back against the bed she’s recently vacated. Pinned beneath her. Legs slotting together in a way that just seems to fit.

The way she stares down, a way I can only describe as wanting, sends a shiver through me.

She lets one hand lightly glide down from my shoulder to my ribs. From shirt to skin where the fabric has ridden up. Leaving hot trails in their wake.

“Hey.”

It’s just a word that she breathes. Ever so innocently. Ever so _unnecessarily._ But it soothes a nervous churning in my stomach I hadn’t realized was there until it ceases to exist. Breaking a tension that had unknowingly started growing again inside of me.

“Hey.” It’s just a cracked whisper back, but I can see the way she smiles in response.

Can feel the way she’s easing nerves that keep cropping up inside of me. Even if I’m trying so very hard to ignore them.

She chuckles again. It should seem out of place, should seem like the wrong time. But it doesn’t.

“This is definitely not what I expected when I talked to you on the bus.”

She’s smiling around her words. She’s practically nuzzling herself into the crook of my neck. Breath hot and tempting on the skin there. I can’t decide If I can feel her press her lips (her teeth, her tongue) to the skin or not.

I’m not sure I want to think about where she thought this would go. Where she believed it might end. I have a few ideas though.

“You totally sure about that? I could swear you had some thoughts.” The words are hard to get out. They’re pulled from a place that’s practically growling with the effort. From a place that had imagined, even if it was only in the vaguest of thoughts, where she might be wanting things to go after promised massages and other times alone that had previously been interrupted by other obligations.

“Well no…” She concedes, nodding slightly, as though she’s entirely convinced on how well her outline in the dark can be seen. (I do see it. Even though I can’t admit the way I see _everything_ in the moment.) “Maybe I can admit to hoping.” She presses a hard hand up my side. From my hips to my ribs. dragging along each bone there, much the same way I had done previously, but uninterrupted by lack of bravery.

She doesn’t move to actually remove the shirt, (Somewhere in a dark place I still hear her whispering how much she likes it.) but it’s pushed up in increments. Always slow enough I could stop her if I wanted to. (I don’t.) Until she’s got fingers gliding over the same skin I could swear she’d been staring at earlier.

“Kell.”

I’m not sure what it’s supposed to be. If it should be a warning. Or a signal. Or a guide. Or a direction. Mostly it just comes out as a whine against fingers that are tracing the fabric left covering my chest in featherlight motions.

It does nothing more than to widen her lips that have pulled into the ghost of a smile.

“Yes?” She questions as she leans down. And it’s so sweet. So sickly sweet with its teasing disposition. That I’d almost think she’s actually innocent in the asking if it weren’t accompanied with the slow tease of her fingers.

Her lips snake their way down my neck. Push the snugly fitted fabric out of the way so she can get the bare edge of my collarbone. Press themselves as far down the length of it as my shirt will allow before she eventually pushes my shirt out of the way entirely so she can get to it.

There are shivers running down my spine. Adding fuel to the flame burning hot in my stomach.

“Kell.” It’s breathless and shaking. I put my hand to her shoulder. One hesitant, unsure hand. So very unused to being this exposed.

She stops and looks at me more serious than she has all night. Her eyes coming into focus from a kind of haze, trained on mine. I think there might be a nervous edge there. Something like a worry that I would want her to stop.

“What is it, Em?”

I wish she knew deep down inside that there’s no part of me that _ever_ wants her to stop.

There’s no words that need to be said. There’s no question and there’s no statement. It’s not that I can’t find them, it’s not my usual self bumbling for words. It’s that this time they don’t exist. This time there’s nothing to say. I just need a second. (And really I think she does too.) Because it’s dawning on me, now, in the middle of this just how far we’ve gone. _Just how far we’re going to go_. Just what exact choices we’re making here in the middle of the night.

I sit myself up. As well as I can with the way she’s got her hips leaning heavily into mine. Unintentionally increasing the pressure sitting in places I’m trying so _very, very_ hard to ignore at the moment. Lift myself until our faces are so infinitesimally close again. Until the tips of our noses are practically touching. Until we’re breathing the same air, back and forth.

It feels like an eternity.

A moment where both of us let ourselves accept what’s happening. (Or at the least where I accept what’s happening.) Accept what this is becoming. What we’re becoming. Deciding whether or not we’ll regret this in the morning. (I know that _I_ won’t.)

Before I realize what I’m doing, I’ve got my fingers brushing up against her cheek. Just a wisp of a thumb across the impossible skin there. Taking in the whisper of her smile as it forms. Taking in every bit of her. Everything she is.

And she lets me.

Permits the extension of this instant. Allows me to press pause and gather myself in what feels like an impossible moment that’s taken forever to finally come.

And then we’re kissing again.

Kissing as she cups my neck with strong fingers. Kissing until she pulls what might be a groan from behind my lips. Saying everything I want, everything I might need, despite my inability to perform social functions.

And here I am, a melting puddle under lips that already know all too well what they’re doing. Melting beneath hands that make their way under where my t-shirt has fallen back into place. To run themselves up the dip of my spine I’ve left exposed.

And suddenly I’m arching away from that pressure in a very unfamiliar needy way. Arching straight into where she’s waiting. All steady presence. All dark eyes. All heat and wanting.  

When she finally lifts my shirt, it seems like it takes forever. Everything seems like it’s taking forever. (It’s not. It just seems like we’ve been wasting time until now. Like maybe we’re tempted to hit fast forward to see everything we’ve been missing.) I let her take the time she needs. (The same way she gave me the time I needed.) Let her peel the layer away leaving me more exposed than I’ve ever been with her.

Honestly more exposed than I’ve been with anyone.

I can’t help but shiver even though I’ve never felt more on fire. Can’t help but feel the way the cold settles over my skin. Can’t help but feel the way all I want is the warmth of her to drive it away.

But she takes her own moment now. A moment spent observing before she finally meets my eyes again. Before she finally let’s out the only shaky breath I’ve heard. The only sign she’s ever been anything but entirely confident since we’ve started this.

Her fingers run a slow smooth trail down my sternum.

A curious, gentle, fleeting touch. A touch that might want to wander so many other places.

A touch that asks for permission one last time.

A touch I inevitably find myself aching to be nearer too.

And then, with the most delicate of whispers in the dark, with the summoning of every single drop of bravery I’ve ever had in my life, I want to make sure she understands.

“Lie down.”

Because this time, _maybe just this one time_ , between the two of us, I feel like I’m the brave one. I’m the sure one. Or at the least, I feel like I’m so much more sure of this than she is. So instead of giving in to whatever anxieties sit in my chest, I’m a sure hand pressed soft against her chest. I’m lips leaning in to whisper close into her ear, so close I know my lips touch the skin there. For once not wavering. For once entirely sure of my purpose.

“I’ve got you.” Mouth teasing against her as I’m listening to the hitches in her breath.

Because for once, for once, I feel like I do.

Pulling slowly at the bottom hem of her shirt as I shift us around. Pulling the fabric up and over her head while I shift my way back over her. Finally leaving nothing to the imagination. All pale skin and freckles. It’s better than anything I could have thought up. (Better than everything I _have_ thought up.)

She’s always so much smaller than I think she is. All compact muscle and sinew.

I don’t waste more time now though. (There will be time later to memorize every inch of her.) I don’t give myself any more time to second-guess myself. Don’t allow myself any more time to let indecision brew. No, I move instead to action, to purpose. Move instead to everything I would have thought was impossible not all that long ago. Hands wandering freely over newly exposed skin. Feeling for every new untouched inch. Mapping out the way she feels under my hands.

A scar here. A sensitive spot there.

The way she unintentionally presses up into my touch. The way she fails to breathe normally when my lips start to follow the brazen trail my fingertips make. Collarbone to sternum. Sternum to stomach. Carefully avoiding the obvious places. Carefully refusing that kind of simple effort. The kind of effort that any other person could so easily follow. Instead I find myself wound between each subtle spot. The corner of her clavicle where she misses a breath. The edge of a rib and the muscle taut beside it when her back arches, ever so slightly. The soft skin above her belly button where she breathes sharply. The inside of her hip bones where she almost, almost lets a whine escape. A trail that has her biting down around the sounds I can only guess she pins up in her chest.

I see the way her jaw clenches. The way it pulses in effort. It’s tantalizing and it’s terrifying, knowing it’s all there just bubbling under the surface.

It’s, honestly, all I can do to even recognize the way my hands have wandered on their own. Bunched themselves up into the waistband of her shorts. Honestly too enraptured with what’s been below my lips, with all the sounds she’s been struggling not to make to realize just what exactly those hands have been up to. The way my thumbs have slipped beneath the fabric. Have kneaded themselves slowly from outer thigh inward. Too far not to be noticed. But not nearly far enough.

When she finally meets my eyes, she’s almost unrecognizable. Something pent up and needy.

There’s no going back from a look like that.

There’s no ignoring it. No getting around it.

Only giving in to it.

“Take them off.”

It’s a voice I’ve never used before.

I think it takes her by surprise as much as it does me because it takes a second for her to comply. It takes a moment, or a minute, or whatever amount of ungainly wasted time while she swallows thickly. But she does. With fingers that seem like they quiver for more than one reason. Until she’s finally all but naked below me. Until I can’t help the way there’s a spotlight of my gaze on her even in the dark.

Even if the only other observers are the streetlight and the moon leaking through the window pane. Even if I’m the only one right now who can really see all the naked truth of how damn intoxicating she is. I can’t help the fleeting thought on whether she feels as exposed as I do. With every single need to touch her written on my face.

It might be written in reverse on hers. But I’m having a hard time making sense of anything right now.

And now, after what feels like the longest breaths we’ve ever taken there’s nothing but a single thin layer of soft fabric between us. Just a simple layer between us and the most complicated this situation has ever been.

Neither of us are thinking about that now.

We’ve both been walking that line for awhile. Just dipping our toes and testing the water. But this? This is fully diving in. We both know that there’s no going back from this.

I can only hope she’s accepted that. Can only hope with each quivering outbreath she knows what she’s doing the way that I do.

And maybe she does. Maybe she knows exactly what she’s doing. Or maybe she just really doesn’t care because it’s her hand that jolts us back into action. It’s eventually her hand that dances softly around my wrist. (We’re so far past the point of talking now. Every action saying a hundred more things than words could.) Wrapping it up with strong, lithe fingers that always surprise me. Pulling with a gentle kind of urgency. Out and away from where it’s been resting. Moving with languid fluidness until it’s back where she wants it.

Back where it was. Resting softly at the outside of her thighs. Her eyes dancing in soft dark patterns between mine while she guides. With a subtle kind of inching. Pretending at their innocence. Feigning a lack of other motives besides wanting the closeness. (Her face is screaming the lie. There’s no avoiding the truth now.)

I’m fully willing to play that game though. I’m fully willing to let my thumb brush in innocent circles. To brush with varying degrees of pressure. To play like I’m not inching closer to exactly where I know she wants me.

Her breathing is stuttered. As stuttered as the slight shake I can feel pulsing through her. She snags my lips again roughly. More teeth and bruising force before she sucks it inbetween both of lips. (I know that I’ll be swollen and bruised by tomorrow.) She’s breathing hard, needy gasps by now. (I’m so close I can feel the heat.) She’s practically humming in such a dangerous way as she’s trying to press herself forward. Pushing and pressing and connecting and driving forward. Everything she can do to finally get skin to match up to skin.

She’s starting to taste like salt. Like effort. Like need. Like everything I’m apparently keeping just out of her reach.

There’s a sound in her throat that she can’t quite contain. It’s dangerously close to a whine. Something that has that kindled fire inside of me pulse alive with a certain kind of drive.

“Em…please.” She finally rasps out. Rasps against lips that she finally chooses to release.

And that’s all it takes. All that it takes to break the last straw of my resistance.

Sends me to skim the thin surface of the last vestige between us. Over fabric that’s too much of everything to even be explained. All need and want and heat that I'm not sure I was expecting. (Or maybe I was. Maybe I hoped. Who's to say really. Who cares.) She almost stops breathing entirely but her whole body reacts. Jumping itself forward in a way I know she can’t control.

She meets my eyes again. Just briefly. All half-lidded but pleading.

I lean forward. Travel lips and teeth and tongue up from the base of her neck. (She’s a shaky half-breath from a growl if I were betting on it. A little more pressure and I know I could make it happen.) Pause at the corner of her lips to take one last reassuring breath.

One last breath for myself. For her.

One last breath before slipping past that last fabric vestige to make her mine.

To paint myself everywhere I want to be.

Where I want no one else to ever have the privilege of going again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not even sure I want to say this this time ya know :)  
> But...honest thoughts? Feelings?  
> You know where to find me.  
> http://writing-to-stay-awake.tumblr.com/


	21. she said who painted those hands red and guilty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this thing still on?

The dining hall is quiet. It’s mostly low murmurs over breakfast plates and blank-faced yawns into obscenely large coffee cups. Total indifference to quality. But, really, that’s not exactly unusual for this early on a Monday morning.

Exhausted students sit sipping their terrible coffees while paging through a book or shuffling through the building as a shortcut across campus in two’s or three’s.

They’re all just hushed voices and haggard faces.

All of them seem to be recovering from weekends spent out doing what every other normal student does. What every other normal student is _able_ to do. Overeating. Overdrinking. Late night partying. Last minute Sunday cram sessions tossing answers back and forth to each other in order to finish assignments before a midnight due time while they nurse a hangover over some kind of greasy fast food.

I’m pretending to be one of them right now. Shuffling my own feet across a worn-out floor. Trapping my own unprompted yawn. All of their symptoms but none of their reasons. I’ll never have the time to spend on what the average student can get into.

I’m not jealous, though. Really.

Because I had my own reasons for being awake. Reasons that still have me preoccupied. Distracted. That still have me tingling in trails from the back of my neck to the tips of my toes. 

Reasons that have me already wishing that I never had to crawl out of my bed this morning.

“Card please.”

The upraised eyebrow and half-sigh as she holds out her hand says everything. The employees don’t want to be here anymore than I do.

She slides my meal card through and waves me on as I choke back another yawn. Hand held over my mouth lazily as I stop, trying to decide between a hot plate and a yogurt bowl. I know I need to swipe something to eat before my first class. I need something that can fill the hollow growling in my stomach. But honestly, trying to decide what to eat is the furthest thing from my mind.

And truthfully, it isn’t the only thing that has me lingering in front of my options.

Across the hall, back the direction I’d just come from, Tobin and Alex are waving happily as they snag their usual table. Signaling the way they’re saving a space for me to join them once I’ve made my decision.

I suddenly can’t quite seem to decide what’s more pressing. Making sure I get absolutely every carb I can find, or avoiding the only table this morning that’s beginning to make any significant amount of noise as Alex is laughing hard at something and Tobin’s 1000-Watt grinning.

(Typical athletes.)

I already wish that I was anywhere but here.

It’s such a strange feeling. Wanting to be with them. To truly, honestly, enjoy just hanging out with them. To want to share everything that has me practically vibrating on the inside.  While also knowing that I can’t. While also dreading everything that could potentially come with every interaction now. That _will_ come with it.

All the hazards. The questions.

All the lies I know I’ll have to tell.

That Kelley has me telling.

It’s curls itself into an uncomfortable pit in my stomach. That they have no idea that this is anything but a completely normal Monday morning. They’re still believing that everything is exactly the same as it always has been.

Nothing is the same though. Nothing feels normal about this Monday.

Not for me.

Everything feels like it’s changed.

And I know that I’m not the only one who knows it. I know that I’m not the only one who feels it. And it only makes it worse when that other someone brushes by behind me so softly it’s like they’re barely even there.

A touch I could almost swear never happened if I didn’t still have the feel of her burned into the front most portion of my brain. To the memory in my skin. (I’m not sure I could forget it if I wanted to.)

\--------------------------------------------------

_This is what heaven feels like._

_Skin pressed to skin. All heat and sweat and touch and feverish, feverish need. Legs tangled. Her nails pressing, bruising their way over my hip. Her lip, caught firmly between my teeth. Each breath between us shaky and turbulent._

_The way we move together._

_The way we’ve seemed to create this rhythm with each other. The way her hips roll like they’re searching for something they’ve never searched for in their life._

_The way the feel of her crawls into me. Under my skin. Pulses inside with each haphazard breath she releases into my neck. With each scrape of her eager teeth against the tendons and veins straining there. With each incoherent word and half-stifled sound into my ear._

_This is what heaven_ is _like._

_Reckless and greedy._

_The way her body keeps reacting to my touch. The way she keeps trying burrow her face deeper into my neck as a way to get closer as she rocks against me. The way there really is no separation between us. One body melting into the other. The way we couldn’t get closer if we tried. The way I can feel each tiny tensing of the muscles around her bones._

_Each jerk and shiver._

_A sensory roadmap telling me everything I need to know about where to go._

_\---------------------------------------_

I spend what is probably an obscene amount of time comparing available bananas and gathering the individual pieces for a yogurt bowl. (It isn’t always easy to create a masterpiece, but Kelley taught me how to bribe one of the cooks for chocolate chips.)

Dissolving into myself as I feel her watching me loosely from her place at the waffle machine.

Confidently.

Enticingly.

So much time that when I finally grow the nerve to get to the table and take my usual seat, Tobin’s laughing about my nature of being indecisive and Alex is poking fun at how I must in fact be a true banana connoisseur. That I most certainly must teach her the proper ways of choosing. It was three or four minutes, give or take. Blessed and cursed time.

 “Oh shut it Al. I’m just tired.”

She grins and ruffles my hair as she stands up (She’s knows I hate it). She’s probably going to grab a bagel or a Croissant for Tobin. Something green and leafy for herself.

“Road trips really are the worst. But you’ll get used to it.”

It’s a soft statement. Something unusually kind. Something usually reserved for the others. She’s entirely clueless. Entirely unaware. The gnawing guilt over it has me hesitating to cut banana slices over the bowl. Has me all too aware of the way Alex’s jaw clamps tightly in anticipation as Kelley passes her to reach the table herself.

Tobin, on the other hand just waves happily.

Oblivious.

Kelley takes her usual place across from me. Sets her plate down, crisp chocolate chip waffle and a fruit cup, as she smiles back to her. As she turns to where I’m still sitting. Stupidly still holding a knife over my bowl. Where she moves, instead, to smiling at me.

“Morning to you too Em. _Tired?_ ”

With eyes that stare hotly into mine, she dips her own fork into my food. It’s no spoon but she manages to steal a bite that I apparently haven’t figured out how to eat. A perfect clump of chocolate chips falling victim.

“—Hey. That’s mine, yogurt thief.”

Kelley just shrugs her shoulders.

It’s almost a roll. Something different than her usual flippancy.

Tobin just grins and rolls her eyes as Kelley remains unapologetic. Food thievery is nothing new here. _This is something else though._

“Sorry. I was hungry. That just looked really good. I suppose I could give you a bite of waffle though. This for that.” She’s got her lips wrapping around the metal spines as her fork rests between her teeth. “It’s hot off the press ya know.”

There’s something to her voice. Something to the way her foot is inching itself against mine. Only the safety of the table between us. Something that reeks of everything that just so recently _happened_ between us.

_\------------------------------------------------------_

_She doesn’t cry out. She doesn’t profess her everlasting love. She doesn’t do any of the things that perfect moments in books or movies make this moment out to be._

_She doesn’t do anything that you might think you could expect. Which should be the definition of what I expect now._

_Always defying the status quo._

_Instead she goes quiet. Quieter than she was before. And she shakes hard. Grip clamping against my shoulders. Over my wrist. She drags me close until I can scarcely breathe. She bites hard at a spot on my chest in a way that actually hurts, but that I can’t care a single bit about, and I only know for sure that it’s over, when those fingers clasped around my wrist tighten, bruising, to hold me still._

_I’ve never seen her eyes quite so dark as they are right now. (And I’ve seen a million different shades of Kelley.)_

_It’s startling, and it’s surprising, and it’s one hundred percent gratifying when she so easily flips us. She’s still out of breath, I don’t know how she manages it._

_But she doesn’t waste her time. Shedding and peeling away every remaining layer that hides my skin from her. That keeps us even an iota apart. It’s nothing close to what someone might call delicate, but it still feels like I’m being handled with a certain fragility. Like something precious._

_She trails a teasing finger down my sternum. Pulls goosebumps up from overly heated skin stretched tight over ribs. Over angles and dips._

_No thought of just how small I really am until I wondered what it might look like to her._

_But there’s no room to be self-consciousness. There’s no reason to really feel it. Not when she looks so predatory. So territorial. Like my body is all ground she wants nothing more than to claim for her own._

_(I think it already is. But there aren’t any words for that sort of thing right now.)_

_It doesn’t take long before she dips her head. Before her lips start to follow the trail of goosebumps her fingertips leave behind. Before she settles on a place just at the edge of my collarbone. Lips pressing soft before she settles herself. It’s a tender spot that’s aching for something._

_(I barely notice it’s where she’d bitten me earlier.)_

_\----------------------------------------------_

Alex tosses Tobin a bagel (which she tears apart immediately, looking expectantly for the cream cheese packet Alex is undoubtedly hiding) and an apple which she stuffs into her mouth with an enormous bite as though Kelley or I might steal it.

Kelley winces has her knife hits the plate with a squeal as she cuts aggressively, but otherwise she continues looking incredibly pleased. It has me questioning whether the tension I thought I felt between them is entirely conjured in my own brain.

“Have a good night then Kel?”

Alex slides into her chair with some kind of egg and vegetable mixture. (She definitely got it made special.) 

“Yeah. Plenty of sleep. Lots of studying. Just like I promised you I would. How was your night?”

Her voice is bright. Peppy. Eager. But it’s all just a well-sold story to me as Kelley’s ankle is tangling itself around mine now. As though she has no idea how terrible of an idea that is. (The thought that she might know is something I can’t contend with.) As though she has no concern despite being the one who’s keeping secrets in the first place.

“It was good! Serv wanted me to tell you, and I quote ‘Hey loser, you’re never around anymore.’ Then something, something ‘you’ll have to grab a beer together when he visits next.’”

Her voice drips something sweet. Something she saves for moments when she knows the ice is thin. There’s some kind of patchwork conversation happening that I can’t quite get the full feel for. Something that must be them walking over whatever eggshells they created the night before.  

“Yeah definitely! So, you good to meet up after practice for dinner? I know you mentioned last night that you…weren’t sure if you’d be able to make it?” She dips her head a little. Flashes a little bit of that Kelley-shaped charisma. She’s going along with whatever tone Alex is putting on. “But…you and I both know Margarita Monday isn’t the same without you.”

Alex looks immediately ready to fire back with something that she holds back between her teeth. Instead, she sputters, drops her eyes for a second (glancing my way for just a moment, like this is something she hadn’t wanted to come up around fresh ears.)

“It was _one time_ Kell.”

Which has me infinitely intrigued and totally conflicted about whether it’s more important to figure out what’s going on, or just to go along for the ride.

“And I’ll never let you forget it.” Kelley’s grinning around a mouthful of waffle.

Tobin almost chokes around the bagel she’s stuffed into her mouth. Seems to plead the case that this is a story I really want to know.  

\------------------------------------------------------

_All those things they say about being made putty in someone’s hands, they’re all lies as far as I’m concerned. None of those melting analogies describes it right._

_Because I’m not putty._

_And I’m not melting._

_With her hands bending their way across my skin, charting the map of my body she must be filling in inside of her head (all growing confidence. all sly angled watching me from the corner of an eye.) I’m nothing but reactionary._

_I’m nothing but out of control._

_Nothing but the frizzle of the thought that I’ve never been exposed like this. Nothing but the flash of what must be a feeling of trust because I’ve never been so willing to be vulnerable._

_She drags a trail back up from where her mouth has found purchase at a sensitive spot on my left hip. I know this is what it must feel like when they say you’re on fire. (All salt-soaked skin. All oppressive need to be anywhere but where you’re pinned.)_

_She nips and kisses at an angle up my neck and over my chin until she hovers, dangerously, just over my mouth. Staring down with so much sincerity and affection it’s suddenly hard for me to swallow. My throat so dry with an aching for something to quench a thirst I haven’t even managed to name yet._

_She licks her lips (I wonder if the taste of my own skin is still on them) and breathes a hard breath through her nose. It’s just a pause. It’s just a second where she seems to be sizing things up._

_Taking her time just for the sake of it, maybe. Because for once she really does have me all to herself. And I have no idea what time it is outside, but in here it doesn’t even have any meaning._

_(It should though, nothing lasts forever. Not even sublime, perfect moments.)_

_It almost surprises me. The way the feeling jumps through my bones. That just because she has the time, doesn’t mean I’m capable of waiting forever. And it isn’t long before I find her name dribbling out of my own hoarse throat. She’s practically grinning back down at me. Fingers dancing along my hip bone like they can’t stand still. So unutterably proud that this is a state that she’s put me into._

_And I realize, in a single moment of clarity, in the middle of this thick fog built around my brain, that she could ruin me right here._

_Utterly._

_Undoubtedly._

_And instead of panicking, reaching for the exit, running for my life, I couldn’t care less._

_I couldn’t want to fall faster than I do right now._

_\-----------------------------------------------------_

I don’t get the story. I don’t get its details, or its hilarity. I don’t get to join in on whatever special bond it seems to have created between them. And I don’t mind all that much. Though I will admit that this time, this time I wish I knew. This time I wish I could sneak in and take a little piece of that story for myself. Weave myself into it.

(I know that’s a selfish thought. I know that that feeling is something to keep to myself.)

What I do get is ushered off to class.

With a sharp eye from Alex to Kelley who suggested it wouldn’t be that big of a deal if I ran a little late. What I got was a moment of critical Alex-overseer.

And Kelley got chastised. Though it only seemed to make her laugh.

_‘Sonny! Can’t believe they forgot to mention it. You can come to dinner with us tonight right? Please? Don’t leave me alone with them!’_

It’s Tobin. The only one who just spent her time laughing while the other two bantered. The only one who kept looking my way, out of the corner of her eye. Who kept seeming to say _Can you believe these two? They’re ridiculous._ The one who always finds a way to make sure I’m included, even when Alex is being hardheaded and Kelley’s off disappearing. (I don’t mention that, now at least, she’s disappearing with me.)

               _‘Oh, I don’t know Tobs. Might have to check my awfully busy schedule.’_

I’m weaving between people in the quad outside of the library. Headed to my favorite napping chair. Heading for what might constitute as actually finally going to bed.

               _‘Come on! I’m a VIP. Write me in. :)’_

It’s so characteristically Tobin. So nonchalantly comfortable and joking at the same time. Never a serious moment.

               _‘I suppose I could make an arrangement. For a big VIP an all.’_

I imagine her laughing on the other end somewhere. Grin goofy. Maybe flopped in her bed, phone held dangerously over her face as she laughs. Or maybe in the back of the class, slumped in her seat, hiding behind some football or basketball player.

Realizing I don’t know her schedule. Realizing it’s such a sharp contrast to the fact that I know Kelley is currently sitting in lab just across the way and that she’s apparently changed her seat today (to the chagrin of someone who really liked her seat) so she can see me walk out of my Political Science class. So she can have her eyes on me. Probably still even now.

And before you ask, I know it happened because she proudly texted me to let me know it had happened. Decided with whatever boldness had seeped into her overnight that she needed to let me know that my shorts today were, and I quote, ‘ _CAPITAL F-I-N-E._ ’ 

I’d shaken my head at the window I knew she was staring out of. I’d rolled my eyes hard, exaggerated, in a way I hope she could see. (I had to keep the bounce, the pep in my step down as I tried not to smirk.)

_‘Ride with me to practice? Then you don’t have to worry about your car.’_

I’m chewing at a raw spot on my lip. Rubbing teeth over the swell, over the bruise that thankfully doesn’t show purple even though I can feel it.

               _‘Can I get cleaned up and change first? Or are we just gonna be gross and stink up the place. The wait staff will just LOVE                 us.’_

I can imagine it now. The wrinkled noses. The thoughts on having to wipe down the chairs after we’ve left.

_‘Just come to mine. I’ve got clothes I was gonna see if you wanted anyway. We don’t want those two to leave us behind.’_

_‘Yeah alright, I can do that. I’m totally showering though! And using your awesome shampoo you can’t stop bragging                         about!’_

She doesn’t respond. But I really just assume that that means it’s a done deal. And really, I’m making out pretty well in the end. Free clothes. Off-campus dinner. Time with friends. With Kelley.

It’s one last look across to the looming building. To the lab and its window and its occupant. A smile I wonder if she sees. And then, it’s napping through my library hours before practice.

\----------------------------------------------------

_We’re both salt-soaked. Sweat covered. I can feel the rivulets that have trailed down the small dip of my chest. I can taste what can only be described as a mixture of us in the air. Something like our trepidation conquered._

_Something like the taste of her still filling me up._

_And she just clings to me. In a lazy way. Body laid on top of body. Her head, ear down, resting over where I suppose my heart is. Wearing what I’m assuming is a lax smile while she has her leg wedged between mine. So still I think she might be falling asleep until she almost hums. Until she offhandedly wraps her arms tightly around me to squeeze._

_Briefly._

_Like maybe she’s just checking to make sure that all of this is still real. That I’m still real. That I’m not just some figment of her imagination._

_“Kell.”_

_It’s slightly more than a whisper, and definitely less than a full proclamation. It’s just something to get her attention._

_She hums in response. Full this time. One of those rising hums. One that asks, ‘What? I’m listening.’_

_I’m toying a finger on the soft skin at the base of her neck, up into her hairline. There are tiny little sweat curls. I’m not sure what I even wanted to say. What is there even to say?_

_“It’s morning.”_

_As though that fact isn’t obvious. As though we can’t see the way the light is trying to make its way in through the window. As though we can’t now hear the birds chirping as they search for their breakfast. (Kelley’s phone died awhile ago. Right in the middle of some indie song that was soft and acoustic. That was everything we weren’t at the time.)_

_She hums again. The rise and fall of an “mmhmm” of agreement. Her eyelashes flutter shut on my chest. I think she’s trying hard not to fall asleep._

_“We need to go.” It rumbles out in a way that I know is whiny. That drags hard on the syllables._

_I want nothing more than to fall asleep with her._

_She repeats her humming agreement. Softer this time. Like she’s falling away into sleep as she answers._

_I don’t blame her. I barely remember the last time we slept. (But, in a way, in a strange way I’m sure some people would call a second-wind, I’m wide awake.)_

_I can’t help but to shimmy. To feel her eyes slide open. To give her a look that I hope she knows means I’m serious. (I don’t want to be. I just want to sleep. Right here. Just exactly like this.)_

_“Yeah. Okay...” She’s mumbling now. Tucking her head away to look down off the bed. “But Em…I have…no idea where my clothes are.”_

_It’s a laugh. It’s a happy grumble this time. It’s her staring back up at me with those laugh lines in the corner of her eyes as her fingers dance playfully at my side._

_“I suggest you find them then.” I work my way out from beneath her. Kissing at her shoulder as I’m hopping down out from under her warmth. Naked in a whole new light of morning and suddenly cold. Eagerly searching for something to wear._

_“Such words of wisdom” she teases. I don’t hear her also hop down, but I know that she had to have when I suddenly feel the warmth of her again. As she wraps herself around me from behind while I’m midway through shaking out a pair of shorts from the clean pile by my chair. “Maybe I don’t want clothes.” It’s a breath on the back of my neck. It’s a soft drag of her lips against the skin._

_It’s hard not to stay there. Not to keep myself from shivering by staying inside her grip._

_I turn though. Until we’re front to front. Until we’re eye to eye._

_“I need to eat.” I kiss her. Hard. To shut her up before her mouth starts to move. Before she can make any kind of joke. “I need food.”_

_She just smiles then. So soft I almost miss it. Would have missed it if I didn’t know what to look for. The way it hits her eyes, even if it doesn’t meet her lips._

_“Then let’s get you some food. Dress if you must I suppose.” She runs one finger along my collarbone as she says it. As she smiles around her words. Planting one soft kiss beside my ear._

_As she drags my heart, basically screaming to go back to bed with it._

_\-------------------------------------------------_

“Lemme see it! How bad is it!”

Tobin’s in the drivers seat, but we just parked so it’s not like it’s a big deal that she’s got her head angled and hanging over my seat so she can see the far side of my leg. Can see where I’m tenderly pulling my sock down from over where I got cleated in practice. It’s dark purple already but at least it didn’t cut the skin.

Just a mass of broken blood vessels.

Just something to look horrendous any time I try to wear anything besides pants with these last few weeks of heat. With the warmth of the beginning of fall.

Something I know Alex will have no qualms about having done. In her eyes I was just another defender in the way of her goal.

It’s nothing close to personal. And it’ll make me better in the long run. But damn, does hurt like hell.

“Hey! Keep all appendages to yourself!”

I’m swatting at Tobin’s hand which she looks like she wants to use to poke at it.

“It’s a good one. She really got you.” It’s such a childlike tone. Half sheer interest, a quarter pride, a quarter of something indifferent because it’s seen this before.

I swing myself out of the jeep before she has any more thought to prodding me.

“She’s just lucky I’m nice enough to let it go.”

Tobin nods in agreement before whipping her head around again, soccer bag slung haphazardly around her shoulder, ready to fall down to her elbow.

“If you lay it on thick, I bet she’ll buy your dinner.”

She’s waggling her eyebrows like it’s the most ingenious plan. Meanwhile, I’m just rolling my eyes and shaking my head. Soccer bag over one shoulder. Ice bag in the other hand. (Minorly) hobbling towards the front door of their dorm.

“Well don’t say I didn’t give you any good ideas.”

She tracks along behind me until we’re at the actual door. I wait for her to slide her ID card to open it. Use the seconds to watch the corner of the ice bag I’m carrying leave drips of water. A trail to follow for anyone interested enough.

“So how long are they gonna be? Do I have time to shower?”

Tobin holds the door for me while she seems to think it over.

“Well, Alex needed to talk to coach after practice, so give that about…oh…eight minutes? And Kelley needs to drop off something with the registrar. I don’t really know. Let’s say…you’ve probably got ten to fifteen minutes. If you’re quick, you can shower.”

She unlocks the door to her room. Slings her soccer bag down in what would be a mirror to where I put it in my room. Though, she’s at least got her cleats tied to the front. Letting them air out. I’ll probably gag when it’s time to pull mine out tomorrow.

“Oh! Right! And you promised me clothes!”

She pulls two shirts and a pair of shorts off the top of a stack and slings them my way. She’s a little different in size, but not obscenely. There’s a 90% chance they’ll fit like a dream.

“Ask and I shall deliver!” She’s struggling out of her shoes as she says it.

I’ve got a change of clothes in my bag if I really want it, (if Tobin’s don’t fit) but before choosing, mostly what I want is to shower. To get clean. To scrape the grass and the dirt and the sweat off.

To have clean clothes, and a full stomach, and warm bed, and sleep.

One thing at a time though.

One beautiful piece at a time.

“Hey Sonn…” Tobin’s got her head buried inside her closet deciding on an outfit while I’m stripping out of mine. Pulling back one shirt after another trying to decide what she wants to wear. She had already rinsed off briefly at the field while I got ice for my leg. Washed enough that Alex hadn’t scrunched her nose. “…Which shirt do think? The white or the…Oh my god…”

When she turns around her mouth drops. Her speech struck dead silent in an instant. Dumb struck.

Except that Tobin isn’t dumb at all.

Her eyes are working at some sort of furious pace. Searching for something that I wish I could answer if I knew the question. Something that has me looking down curiously at my own bare stomach. At where I’ve got my thumbs hooked through the waistband of my shorts.

I’m still in spandex and a sports bra.

I have no idea what the problem is.

“What?” There’s a waiver to my voice. My skin is crawling. “What? What is it? Is there a bug? Get it off!”

I’m swiping at arms but I can’t feel anything. Nothing but a crawl up the back of my brain that tells me I’m forgetting something.

“Sonnett…What the fuck?”

The blood is simultaneously wanting to drain from my face and rise at the same time. Like being motion sick but neither of us are moving.

I’m starting to realize where she’s got her eyes trained. I’m started to realize what I’ve forgotten.

What I’ve never had a need to remember before.

“Sonn…do you have anything you wanna explain?” The way Tobin’s eyes are trained hard to my collarbone.

To the place that Kelley had chosen to leave a mark.

Her mark.

Somewhere that was supposed to be private.

Somewhere that was only supposed to be hers.

Ours.

“Um…” My throat hurts. My palms are hot. Sweaty. “…um….”

Tobin takes a step towards me. Closes off what my frantic brain considers retreat options.

“Hey, sorry. I didn’t mean to…whatever..... Just, what’s up with that?”

So soft. So coaxing and gentle. As though talking to her wasn’t something I’ve been wanting to do all along.

As though I’m not about to spill a secret to a person I promised Kelley I wouldn’t.

As though I hadn’t just made a huge, unthinking, mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been about six years. (Not literally.) For lots of reasons. But here I am. And it's still alive! You know where to find me.  
> http://writing-to-stay-awake.tumblr.com/


	22. storytellers and truthsayers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised. So delivered.

We make promises.

We make them over and over and over again.

We sometimes make them without a single thought to how difficult, to how utterly impossible it will be to keep them.

Without even thinking about how badly we don’t really want to keep them in the first place.

Because to us the issues are simple and meaningless. Because to us in our world, our universe doesn’t revolve around the idea that this simple thing needs to remain silent and unspoken. Because to us it just isn’t really that important.

I swear, this wasn’t one of those times. When I promised, I _had_ meant it. Had meant to keep it.

Because Kelley is something that _is_ important to me. She was most definitely someone I wanted to keep my promises towards. The same way the person you promised once, twice, three times, is just as important to you. But you know what happens so often, right? We promise, and we do our best, and we keep our mouths shut. Until we can’t.

Because, let’s face it, we all know that some promises are just too hard to keep.

Because sometimes, all we can hope for is forgiveness when we break them.

And when Tobin is standing there, asking for the only thing I can’t possibly give her, I know what’s going to happen, even as my mouth stutters and sputters over the lie that already wants to come tripping so easily out. That wants to guard and defend the secret I was asked to keep.

What happens, so (not) unpredictably, is that the truth breaks free instead. The truth. The sad and tired and so desperately wanting to be heard truth.

“Look. I uh...okay, so, I want to tell you. Really, Tobin, I _want_ to tell you. But I need you to know that I promised I wouldn’t tell you. And so that’s a little complicated, right? But you’re you, and I don’t want to lie to you? I don’t even know why I am. Or I guess why I was? Whatever. That’s not the point. The point is, I promised I wouldn’t tell you, but if you ask me to, right here, I will. But then you have to promise me that it doesn’t leave this room. That it doesn’t go back to the person I promised. That it doesn’t go to anyone else. _Not anyone._ ”

I want to say it feels like time is shifting. That the gravity of the situation is rooting me in place while I fumble nervously about for what to do or to say next. But, really, that’s not true. That’s overly grandiose. False. Fictitious. No. Instead, in the space of time that I went from fumbling between incoherent sounds to a new contract of secrecy (how utterly unfair to push this pressure off on her now, I know), Tobin’s gone from concerned curiosity to outright hand twisting need to know. And I? Well, I already feel the desperate desire to just have the words out of my chest, out from where they keep digging into my throat.

I am, perhaps just now realizing, how utterly desperate I am to have this out.

“You’re…breaking a promise, so you need me to promise not to tell them that you’re doing that?”

The blood is pumping hard through my ears, I can feel the rising heat as they burn. But where my palms had initially been sweaty, clammy with the idea that I was so suddenly caught, instead they feel sure. More sure than I could have expected them to ever feel about this.

“Yeah. That’s, uh…yeah that’s basically it.”

At least I’m being honest about it. (Finally.)

Tobin steps away from the closet where she’d been selecting something to wear and plops down onto the end of her bed. She’s picking at the seam in her comforter and probably gauging how far into this mess she really wants to step.

I wouldn’t blame her if she bowed out early. (But I’m hoping she won’t.)

“Alright. Well then, I promise. I won’t say anything. Hit me. What’s going on? What kind of mess have you gotten yourself into already?”

And even though just the thought of doing this should be turning my stomach into a knot, I’m finally calm. Finally so ready to just get another perspective from someone who isn’t Sam or Lindsey. From someone, _Someone_ , who really _really might know_ what to do. Basically, the only thing I really know, really feel is that _this_ of all things is the right decision.

I know, just as well as I know that Tobin’s undoubtedly going to tell me what a bad idea all of this is.

But there’s really nothing to do but go for it.

The deed is already done. There’s nothing to do now but to face the music.

Inhale. “Okay….” Exhale. No dramatics. Just go for it. “…It’s from Kelley. It’s, well, it’s a little complicated, and I don’t really know what I’d call any of it, but it’s a thing. _We’re_ _a_ _thing_.”

She doesn’t look confused. She doesn’t look surprised. She barely bats an eye. Instead she just leans back until she’s fully reclined, staring up at the pockmarked ceiling, taking account of the waterstains from years of leaks in the old dorms.

“Well…that took you long enough…”

It comes out as a murmur and I’m not even sure I’m supposed to have heard it. But I have. But I did. And now all I have is the sinking feeling the sentiment is leaving in my stomach.

“I don’t think I know what you mean…?”

And it comes out smaller than I had intended. Less full of the snappiness I had wanted for it to harbor and more full of confusion. Because really, this is Tobin. And really, I just want to understand and I know that she’ll tell me if I ask.

“Well it’s not exactly like you two are being subtle. Kelley’s sneaking away all the time. I see your name pop up on her phone enough. She’s not talking to Al and I nearly as much. We never know when she’s going to be back in the room. And, I mean, she really needs to get better at making a cover story. Because the last time Allie forgot to lie for her and she’s lucky I was the one asking and not Alex.” She pauses for a second before sighing and adding, “And the idea of her being with Justin at every disappearance has been less and less likely the more I see them together.”

Her look is pointed and stern, but not unforgiving. Concerned more than angry.

“Oh.”

She nods slightly as she stands back up, wandering vaguely back towards her closet.

“ _Oh._ ” She repeats with a certain level of snark.

The sinking pit of my stomach is gone. Not afraid anymore of the response. Not afraid because I never should have been. This is _Tobin_ of all people.

“I’m sorry, though.”

And I’m not sure where it comes from. The sudden desire to need to have said it. The sudden need to have her know that this wasn’t what I wanted.

“For what?”

She’s picking through shirts again. Trying to choose between two, neither of which really matching anything else.

“For lying. Or, I mean, I guess for hiding it. For not talking about it. Whatever. You know. I wanted to tell you when it first started happening. But, well, promises….”

Tobin hums softly in thought before turning around, one shirt in hand, the other back where it had started.

“Forgiven. On one stipulation.”

She stops what she’s doing, face suddenly serious. Turning me into something statuesque.

“Okay…what is it?”

And something tells me I’m not going to like this.

“I won’t tell anyone. I won’t say anything. I’ll act like I’ve never heard another word elsewise. For all anyone will know, I’ve only got my own thoughts to go on. Just the way it was before. But that’s it. I’m not going to be lying for you. Especially not to Alex. And if she finds out I know because you told me and she doesn’t know because you _didn’t_ tell her, well, there’s going to be hell to pay. For both of us. So you two better work out whatever issues there are and tell her. Because she’s not always Sherlock, but she will figure it out. Like I said, it wasn’t that hard to get the idea. And let’s just say it’s not going to do you any favors if that happens before you’ve admitted it.”

I’m not sure how to handle that. How to take the absoluteness of it. But I suppose I take it as though it’s the only option available. Nodding resolutely. Because really, it _is_ the only option I have.

“Alright, good then. That’s taken care of. Go now. Shower. They’ll be back soon and if you smell Alex won’t let you come. And trust me, you _don’t_ want to miss Margarita Monday.”

She’s practically shoving me into the bathroom. Throwing a towel in my direction.

“Yeah alright, alright. I’m going!” She’s ready to shut the bathroom door behind me. Rushing so she can get herself changed and ready. But there’s something I need to know first. One hand thrown out to stop the shutting door. “Hey! Wait, Tobs…Tobin. We’re…okay, right? You and I?”

Her face turns soft as she releases the smallest chuckle.

“Yeah Sonn. We’re okay. But we won’t be if you don’t shower. You smell like Alex ran you over into the ground. Oh, wait….”

And with that she shuts the door with a grin.

And I, with the ten-ton atom bomb of anxiety off my chest feel like a whole new person. Giddy even, despite the fact that I should be exhausted. Despite the fact I’ve neglected full nights of sleep, and meals, and everything a normal healthy person gets in favor a full-diet of Kelley.

I feel free again.

\---------------------------------------------

It doesn’t take long to understand what the appeal is.

The lights in the restaurant are dim and the mariachi in the background is festive. The booth (hidden away towards a corner in the back) fits the four of us snuggly. Each taking what’s become their usual sides.

The tacos are average, but the margaritas (a supposed house mix, not just slush from a bottle) leave each of them pink-cheeked and laughing.

“And then…and then…” Alex sputters out, trying and failing for full sentences. “Oh man, and then you just flopped. You shoulda seen your face!”

Alex is deep into her second oversized fishbowl. Into a second drink she hasn’t realized got spiked with extra Tequila by Kelley while she went to the bathroom. Her smile tilts and it’s wider than I’ve seen it in awhile and it reminds me that she doesn’t typically drink during season.

“She’s not wrong.” Tobin snickers beside her, ears red and a flush broken over her cheeks. “You looked like you’d been clotheslined.”

I can’t help but shrug. If laughing over the collision at practice is what it takes to get them laughing, so be it. I can handle it. Especially when Kelley’s got slow, stealthy fingertips just brushing against my outer thigh.

Distracting. Daring. Dangerous.

“Listen. One of these days I’m gonna get you back and I don’t want you complaining about how you got hit by a Mac truck so hard you ate grass.”

I’m stealing just a small sip of Kelley’s drink while the waiter has his back turned at another table and eying Alex playfully across the table where she snorts in answer.

“The day you get me like that I’ll take you to dinner _and_ buy you a drink, cause Sonn…That ain’t gonna happen.”

She’s grinning and taking another couple swallows.

“I’ll mark that down for future reference.” Tobin’s laughing. Playing at logging it into her phone. “But I got my money on Al for this one.”

Kelley slides her drink back. Finger just managing to brush mine. Subtle.

I can’t help but feel like Tobin sees it all now as though it’s through a microscope even though nothing about the look on her face changes. I choke back the idea as best as I can. Cause if Tobin can see it so can Alex and maybe I liked living in the ignorance.

“I don’t know you two…I might put my money on Em.” Kelley’s practically smirking, but I’m trying not to look. Trying not to get too caught up in the image at my periphery. At the freckles and the stray hairs, and the somehow unobvious finger still trailing at the edge of my shorts. Skin. Fabric. Skin. Fabric.

“Make it a date then Al, it’s happening.”

I can’t tell if that’s an eyebrow raise from Tobin now, or if it’s just my imagination. Or maybe it’s just her face and she’s thinking about something else. And there’s a definite change in the pattern of Kelley’s fingertips. A little more pressure and now I’m stuck. Stuck somewhere between wanting Kelley to stop so I can think right and never wanting her to stop at all.

It’s an intoxicating brand of playful jealousy being exposed. (I just might like the feeling.)

I take a long sip of water (Designated Driver), wash the strong and sweet taste of Kelley’s margarita from my tongue and hold the serious face that Alex is trying to maintain. It’s really quite good, before she tries to wink and bursts out laughing. (It’s never fair to play against the tipsy, but I like winning battles.)

It feels good having this. This not serious talk. This ridiculous posturing. This everything that I think we’ve all really needed. Where I can hide myself in the laughter, in their easy talk, in Kelley’s warmth.  At least for the moment, it’s easy to lose the fact that everything is still just as complicated as it’s ever been.  Or at least it’s easy to ignore.

Especially when things are so good right now.

Especially when an indulgent Alex is buying another drink for herself and Tobin’s happily munching on chips and butchering pronunciations for everything on the menu, and Kelley’s just quietly smiling through it all. One finger now tucked under the edge of my shorts in a way I don’t understand how she hides, but she does.

Everything is fine.

Is better than fine.

(At least that’s what I’m telling myself.)

\-------------------------------------------

In the entire saga that’s happened, I had never, not even once, thought that this would be a problem. In all the possible scenarios I hadn’t even considered this to be a possibility.

But just because you never consider something, doesn’t mean it won’t happen.

Hell. It probably makes it more likely. What with the way the universe lives to trample on our plans.

To which what I’m inferring to, is what just occurred.

They fought over the front seat.

No fisticuffs. No violence. No. It was the most Alex and Kelley based whining fest I’d ever seen. But legitimately, they fought over the front seat. And, depending on which view you have of either of them (and of me), believably or unbelievably…Alex won.

And this time, this time I know Tobin’s eyebrow raise is a real thing. Is directly aimed and questioning. Because even though we both know Alex should hold the trump card in most situations, we both know who’s taken residence in my bed. And I know she’s trying to work that math.

We’re halfway home, pushing seventy-five on the freeway and coming up on our exit back to campus when Alex finally lifts her head from where she’s pressed it against the window for most of the trip.

“I’m glad you came with us Em.” Alex’s speech doesn’t have the typical slur, but it’s laced with all kinds of drunken tiredness. A kind of pronounced rough and raspy tone that she usually only has when we’re up for pre-dawn workouts. Her eyes aren’t entirely focused as she looks over. As we meet eye to eye for just a brief moment before she turns back to rest her head against the window.

“Me too!” Tobin’s happily piping up from the backseat. Thumbs twiddling in her lap. She’s the peppiest of the group. Which may or may not have something to do with the fact that she stopped drinking well before the others. Or may just have something to do with her particular brand of personality.

“Mmhm.” Kelley’s response is basically a hum, thick and gravelly, and way too close for me to think entirely straight about it. She’s been leaning forward, straining the length of her seatbelt. Pressed up as close as she can to the space between the front seats. Forearms resting over the center console.

She doesn’t seem particularly thrilled to have been left in the back. To have been taken from what she must feel is her rightful place.

(Honestly, it is, but how am I supposed to argue that point?)

Still, disregarding that (and really, I need to) there’s a kind of thick silence laying over the soft sound of the radio. It’s warm. It’s tired. Not uncomfortable, but noticeable. It resonates across the view of the residential neighborhood just on the outside of campus.

“Glad you’re our friend Em.” Alex smiles soft, genuine, honest. A moment of alcohol induced vulnerability if I had a guess. Tobin just shakes her head and chuckles in the back seat. This isn’t her first go around with Margarita Monday. “As far as the freshman go, I think we picked the best one.”

I can’t help but smile at it. Big enough that even though I’m keeping my eyes fixed to the road, I know they can see it. (Or, at least, everyone but Tobin whose view is blocked by Kelley.)

“Glad I got picked then.” Thumbs tapping against the steering wheel. Trying to figure out what I can say. What won’t get me into any trouble. “You’re, uh, you’re not so bad yourselves.”

Plural. Distinctly plural.

I’m acutely aware of the soft tickle from Kelley’s breath as she turns her head just enough to face my direction. Practically sitting over my shoulder. Head tilted. Eyes (now generally hidden from the other two) full of the fire of something.

Alex scoffs and rolls her eyes good naturedly.

“Yeah, yeah. We know.” Always the humble one. She just chuckles a little. Sits up straighter to fiddle with the radio. Humming along a little off-key. And from there it doesn’t take long for the sign at the corner of campus to come into view. To see the smile Alex starts to wear, likely, at the thought of her bed and the precious sleep that she’s craving.

“How bout I drop you off outside your dorm princess?” An easy gesture. Something I know she’ll accept. “So you don’t have to walk back across campus from mine.”

She flashes a thumbs up and grins before she sits herself fully upright. Gathering her things, smoothing down her shirt, huffing at her flyaways she can see in the reflection of her window as we’re turning onto the short road that leads to her dorm.

_Their_ dorm.

I pull in along the curb, throw the car in park and turn with a flourish.

“My ladies, your chariot has arrived.”

Tobin snorts from the backseat as she throws her door open.

“Yeah alright Sonn. Maybe chauffeuring can be your backup plan.”

Alex just laughs before she, too, opens her door and starts getting out. Turning her head over her shoulder with a shrug.

“Well it’s no pumpkin carriage, but I suppose it’ll do.”

They’re both waiting on the sidewalk now, Alex digging through her oversized wallet to find her ID to open the door.

But there’s no third car door. There’s no other _grand_ exit.

What there is though, is the click of the seatbelt I’d forced her to wear, and then Kelley, climbing over the console with a surprising amount of grace to sit herself down in the now vacant front seat.

Tobin’s eyes keep an evenness about them, but she frowns a little. (It’s barely noticeable, just a slight crease pulling from the corner of her mouth.)

“What, you looking for a joy ride around campus before bed Kell?” Her voice betrays nothing. Drips easy curiosity.

Tobin’s door had been firmly shut, but Alex never closed hers as she exited. Too distracted. Too tired. Too anything but paying attention. And all it does is leave plenty of space for talking.

Alex looks up confused.

“I don’t want her to walk alone. You know at this time of night all the good spaces are going to be taken and she’s going to have to park all the way over in BFE and walk back to her dorm. I’ve got my ID to get in.”

I don’t want to say Tobin looks incredulous. Because _incredulous_ isn’t exactly the word. No. The word should be _knowing._ But Kelley doesn’t know that herself. Doesn’t know that Tobin knows _exactly_ what she’s doing.

“Kell…?” Alex’s voice questions without saying anything. Checking to see if she’s really doing what she says she is. Wondering, maybe, if she’ll actually be coming home to where she belongs. That she isn’t running through the night somewhere, with someone. Regardless of who that someone may be.

“It’ll just be 10 or 15 minutes. You can take the first shower and use all the hot water and I won’t even get mad about it.”

Alex pauses for a moment, seems to consider the notion, tossing it back and forth inside her head before she shrugs.

“Yeah alright. I’ll see you when you get back.”

Given up so easy seemingly.

Tobin’s face though remains a curious mask. (I see the edges of it, the signs of it, now that I know what I’m looking for.)

“Alright then…” Their eyes snap to me, on the far side of the car now, away from Kelley who’s fiddling with her seatbelt. “Well, have a good night guys. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Alex waves, turns to walk towards the door as she returns to the wallet and the search for her ID. Tobin looks back at the car exactly once with a nod before she turns back.

I can just hear her murmur “Don’t worry Al, I got it,” as she hip checks her just slightly to get her attention and she tugs out her own ID from the lanyard she’s carrying.

Kelley closes the car door, left haphazardly open by Alex, and we pull away from the curb.

Kelley’s hand immediately finds its way across the console, slides its way softly to rest on the inside of my thigh. Fingers tucking warmly under edge of fabric. (Not a single thought to the fact they could just look backwards and see her.)

I don’t know if she’s that seemingly brave, or if she doesn’t care (or think to care.)

I’m not sure if I expect her to be demure about it, but I definitely wasn’t expecting the way she doesn’t look away. Eyes still full of whatever look they held earlier. Whatever look found its way to her eyes while she couldn’t act, while she kept her hands to herself. While Alex (and Tobin) waited, watched.

“Well hey there, handsy.”

We take a turn, car gliding slowly down a side street (a maintenance route really) that lets us avoid the main road. Quicker than traveling out with the rest of traffic. (Gives us more time of that 10 to 15 she estimated. Not that I’m counting.)

“Hey.”

It’s just louder than a whisper. A murmur from her lips. All low octave rumbling. Enticing.

“Just walking me back from the parking lot, huh?”

I’m wrapping her hand in mine. Twisting her fingers out from my shorts (where I can’t handle them being, at least not right now) and meshing them loosely together. It’s warm. Comfortable in a lazy way. The feeling is worming its way through my chest.

“Even charioteer’s can use white knights, you know.”

It’s a taunting challenge. She raises her eyebrow playfully. Unwraps and rewraps our fingers so they’re held differently. Opposite of how they were originally. More comfortable. And less. The idea that there’s a position I feel most comfortable in.

“White knight?” I raise my own eyebrow at her briefly before focusing back on the road as we make another turn. “You think you’re my white knight?”

She chuckles a little before dragging her hand slowly away to hold it to her chest. Mock offended.

“What, aren’t I dashing and brave enough for you?” Her tone is daring, but I already see her struggling to hold back her grin. Just chewing at the inside of her cheek slightly.

We pull onto yet another street, still searching for an open space, farther away from the dorms than I had thought. (She was exactly right. At this rate we’ll be in the last freshman accessible lot. In _BFE_ as she called it _. Bum Fuck Egypt._ )

“Oh…you’re certainly brave enough. _Overly_ brave some might say.” (I can still feel the way her fingertips traced at my skin in the restaurant. Testing and teasing and itching to push themselves further.) Her lip quirks, flashes with another suggestive eyebrow raise. “And you’re…” I swallow hard, head turning to face her briefly, “…you’re certainly _dashing_ enough.”

There’s finally a spot, halfway into the final lot. Her hand comes back to rest at my thigh, index finger tracing soft patterns by the time we’ve pulled in and parked. (Tracing letters maybe, but I’m just too distracted.)

“I fail to see how either of those are reasons for why I’m not a white knight?” The engine is still vibrating the car softly. Humming just enough to break the silence. She’s leaning in now. Nearly as close as when she sat in the back seat. As when I could practically feel the warmth she was radiating beside me. Almost shoulder to shoulder. (When I could have easily turned my head, been face to face and way too close.)

“You know who else tends to be brave and dashing?”

I flip the key off. The radio (whatever station Alex left it on) continues to play softly, the car’s battery continuing, but the engine is now silent. Static and still.

“I don’t know,” her voice is hushed. Not a whisper, but something a lot like it. Conspiratorial, maybe. Like she’s got a few answers, a few ideas, (maybe even the right one that’s on my brain) but all she wants is to hear it fall out of my mouth. “Why don’t you tell me who else then?” It’s suggestive. _That’s_ what that tone is. So easily identifiable now that I see it. “ _Who else tends to be brave and dashing?”_

Dragging me in.

(Pulling where I already want to go.)

I can’t stop the grin that comes before leaning in. Don’t want to stop it. Lips quirking against skin. (Two can play this game.) Catching her lips lightly, shedding the last distance between us easily. Biting, tugging at her lip, feeling the soft squeeze of her hand on my skin before pulling away. Feeling a soft pulse of urgency growing.

“Bandits.”

It’s whispered basically against her lips before I’m out of the car. Before she has a chance to react. Before I have a chance to see what look may actually come over her. (And how dangerous that may be to see when I know she needs to get back to her dorm. Back to where she’s expected.)

Standing out behind the car, dragging my feet across loose gravel and easily swinging keys around my index finger.

Just waiting.

(It’s worth it.)

When she finally opens the door and swings both legs out to stand up, she’s certainly collected herself. Calm. Composed. Eyes looking up, eyebrows raised. Playful questioning I’d think. (I’m not worried. The only thing to be nervous of here is the way my heart might actually fail to keep beating under the strain I’ve been putting it under. It’s hammering hard, but I’m too focused on her to keep noticing it.)

“Are you accusing me of banditry?”

She takes a couple steps forward, closing in.

“Maybe I am. And?”

She steps slowly, deliberately. Forward and slightly at an angle. An easy circling. Turning us. My back is to the car before I actually realize what’s happening.

“Well what evidence do you have of that then?” She takes a step forward and I take a step back. Keep the short distance between us close but even. “Am I part of some outlaw gang now?”

While the image of Alex and Tobin briefly features forefront in my brain I have to shrug and smile. (The idea of them as a gang is funny, but ultimately fruitless.)

“Maybe just a thief then.”

She takes another step as I backtrack. Ideas changing. Evolving.

The back of my thigh hits the car’s bumper. Out of room.

(I’m not fooled. I know where this goes. But I’m not moving to stop it.) She raises an eyebrow again, shakes her head lightly.

“Now, that sounds like a second challenge to my honor in just a short span of time.” She takes a step closer. Leaves just another single step between us. “So, just what, may I ask, have I stolen?” She steps forward again. We’re basically touching, nearly right up against each other as she manages to leave the smallest sliver of space. Feet practically between feet. She’s paused. Waiting. “Just where’s your proof?”

She’s leaning. I can smell the faintest trace of what’s left of her perfume. The lingering scent of the margaritas on her breath.

I chew at the inside of my cheek. My chest is starting to hammer harder (as if it really could) in that way that also makes my lip quiver just a bit. Nervous. That has me unsure I can get the words out fully. Has me tilting my head down and away, looking for some space I know isn’t there.

She’s glancing. Eyes dancing down and back. Eyes to lips.

She rests her hands on both sides of me. Pinning me without touching.

Leaning, until I think she’s about to kiss me again. Right here in the open.

The reaction is instinct. Hand to hip. To stomach.

But she doesn’t go where I expect. Continues further. Shifts until she rests, lips just skimming my ear.

A shiver running down my spine.

“Call me whatever you want Em. The only thief I see, right now, is you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again. Thoughts?


	23. step carefully

I wish that I could tell you that I’m confused. I wish that I could tell you I have no idea what she means as she whispers silver-tongued words and flips the statement back against the hard shell of my ear so easily. I wish it almost as badly as I wish I could control the way a shiver runs down my spine at the graze of her lip on my skin, at the soft heat of her breath.

But, if we’re being honest here (and aren’t I trying to do more of that?), I can’t say that I am. At least not completely. I’ve got a few ideas. Or maybe, I’ve got at least one.

Because there’s something to her tone, to her tenor, that tells me I know exactly what she’s talking about. There’s something to the now pressing lean of her body, the hands that rested beside me slipping instead through the belt loops of my shorts. There’s something to the heat of her fingers passing too easily through the denim of my waistband. There’s something to the way she relaxes into the hands I have pressed against the soft fabric of her shirt. Against soft stomach and the hard ridge of her hip.

There’s something there that tells me I have a very distinct idea of what she’s referring to.

Because, while we know she might be wrapping her soft fingers around the thudding betrayer in my chest, one moment at a time, claiming unbought purchase to something that was definitely once only mine. There’s certainly no mistaking, to you or to me, that I’m the one thieving her out from under someone else’s fingertips. No matter how much we care. No matter how much we _don’t_ care. ( _Or is that only me?_ )

Still though, while this whole thing should seem accusatory, should seem like anything other than something I would want, it’s not.

That’s not what this is.

This interaction, this moment, here under the vaguely orange glow of a streetlight, pressed up against the trunk of my car isn’t some exchange of biting remarks. Isn’t some volley of accusations at all. It’s what keeps happening to us. It’s what keeps me guessing. Sometimes flailing wildly, and sometimes with sure feet. It’s the conversation beneath the conversation.

Just another instance that echoes all the times before. Talking around what we’re really saying here. Talking around the things we want to say but can’t seem to make our mouths sound out. The words buried inside our chests.

“Just what,” I mimic (feeling oh so brave despite the subtle shake to my bones), “may I ask,” shifting our positions, until we’re face to face again, nuzzling against her cheek, turning her jaw until she’s right where I want her, “have I stolen?” A whisper against the skin of her lip. (Holding back the way I want to grin when I see the subconscious flick of tongue across the dry surface.)

Her fingers press into my hips. Both thumbs pushing while the others pull. An enticing reaction. Her eyes are dark, shifting wildly between my lips and my eyes. Eyebrow arcing in _just_ that way. In just the right way to tangle my stomach into a knot, into a dancing flame.

“Things…” It’s a whisper as she dips her head forward. As she pulls my bottom lip between hers, tugging gently with her teeth. There’s a clawing of something growing in my chest I know I need to stop.

I pull my lip from her loose grasp. Another shiver shoots down into my stomach.

“What kind of things?”

She’s nudging my face sideways now, lips working a slow trail up my jaw, back up to my ear.

“ _Important_ things…”

She’s capturing my ear _just so_ , tongue flicking over to soothe where teeth tug and pull, breathing (all impossible heat), threatening to melt the bones beneath my skin. Here. In a parking lot. Exposed for the world to see.

It takes a second, a moment where my body wants to betray me, to sink further into the pressure of her, to the heat of her, before realizing I need to hit the brakes (I really don’t want to). To press instead, softly, with the hand at her hip. To pull my head away. To pull away in a manner that could almost be confused with shy, demure (but that definitely isn’t shy with her).

She looks…unsettled. Determining maybe. Trying to read where I’m going.

“ _Important things,_ huh? Do I get to know about them?”

Steadying her. Reeling her back in while she teeters on a subtle pout. Trying to make her understand, it’s not that I don’t want this, but we need to get going (I don’t want her to go). It’s that we need to sleep (actual honest to goodness sleep). We’re both exhausted (in the best way possible).

“Maybe…” She responds, moving her hands, one slipping just inside one of my pockets, the other tangling with the hand that was pressing against her stomach. Nuzzling herself close one more time, chest near to chest, cheek to cheek, a soft warm press of her lips to my jaw. “Maybe you already know…” It’s a low murmur near to my ear again, “…you just haven’t figured it out yet.”

She takes a step back, tugging once before letting the hand in my pocket fall, holding the other firmly, continuing to pull. To guide. Starting to lead so we’re walking, hand in hand. Hips bumping softly every few steps. Only the vaguest annoyance to her walk that I’ve stopped her where she had me. (She’s always put me in control. Always asked me to just tell her when something was too much.)

“Is that so?” Quirking an eyebrow in her direction. Teasing. (Always teasing.) I’ve got my thumb circling the soft skin by her knuckle. Tracing the soft outline of a scar there. Quick steps to stay close with her. Unwilling to leave the body heat she resonates.

“That’s so.” She repeats. Resolute. Final. Soft noted.

She has her head dipped, looking back briefly with a mild smile, before facing forward again.

She’s guiding us down the sidewalk, in between two buildings (Administrative and Science Labs). An easy shortcut I’ve never thought to take before. Making up time that was lost, carelessly, against the back of my car.

She releases my hand as we turn the corner, choosing instead to run easy fingers up and down my forearm, once, twice. She’s looks over, one good time, eyes tracing up and down, slowly, deliberately, before she takes a step, drifting us apart.

Like clockwork, we turn another corner and the dorms come into view. Separated by grass and street and sidewalk. (And space. Too much space.)

I hadn’t thought of where this route would take us, but notice suddenly she’s gotten us onto the path by the Student Union. Coming up now on the intersection we so often meet at.

I wonder, vaguely, step by step, as she drifts inch by inch, if she worries Alex can see her from a window. I don’t know if the angle is right. (I know her room window faces mine. But I’ve never truly looked out of it.) If she worries that just like the first night she tried to let secrets and confessions escape while we sat out on the sidewalk under a warm night sky, that she’ll be interrupted. That she’ll be found and exposed.

“Maybe…for once, we can assume I’m not so smart…” Still talking around it, still trying to get her to say the thing I’m so sure rests on the tip of her tongue. At the tips of empty fingertips, itching for something to hold. The thing I just want so badly to hear for all the most selfish reasons.

She pivots on the path, taking the direction that will lead us to the front of my dorm. To Wick Hall in all its quiet and empty glory. Empty, because now it doesn’t feel the same. Knowing she won’t be staying with me. (Not tonight. Not until the next time she can devise some escape.)

I’m following half a step behind now. Taking in the calm sway to her step. Her casual confidence.

She turns her head, cocks it sideways. Smiles just a little now, reassuring, easing and inflaming the knot in my stomach. Just the flash of jaw and teeth. The stray baby hairs highlighted under the sidewalk lights.

“But you _are_ smart.”

And those responses are how I know that she’s playing. Her words a dance. Poking and prodding and waiting to see what the next step is. Goading almost. A game.

We’re almost to my front door. The florescent lights inside too bright for this time of night. For this conversation. For these lines beneath the lines that we aren’t saying but both know sit there.

“You’re really not going to tell me?” Soft. Overly sweet. Unabashedly Manipulative. She turns to face me again. She has her thumbs tucked into the waistband of her own shorts. (Like maybe she needs to keep them hidden away. Needs to keep her hands busy so they don’t wander to other things. To other places.)

She shrugs. Smiles sly again.

“You’ve been delivered safely back home...” Half-proud, half-devilish. There was never any danger. Just the few more minutes she could steal under the guise of gallantry. (We’re both guilty.) “…And as promised,” she gestures towards herself, “a perfect white knight.”

I take a step forward, close some of the new space she’s left between us. Take a breath. Calm myself. (Prepare myself. Try for an unfamiliar thing. A new deliberate behavior.) Head dipping, but eyes raising.

“What did I steal Kel?” Voice a low octave that should be unnatural, but somehow isn’t. That asks again, tugs for the information out from her chest.

Her eyes flash pointedly behind me. To where I assume she sees her dorm. To where I assume the window faces. To where I assume she gauges her danger level. Deciding what to do.

Her eyes shift, hesitantly, before she takes a small step forward. Before she settles again. Meets me, toe to toe. Eye to Eye.

So close again I can hear her sigh as she drops her head away. Playing with the same reaction I did not so long ago. Faux shy. Not quite honestly demure.

When she finally responds, it’s quieter than I would have expected. “I’m right here aren’t I?” As though that _oh so obviously_ answers what I’m asking. (It does. So easily.) She wraps her arms around me, soft, comfortable. “I’m not anywhere else but here.” I’m realizing her face is tucked away, trying to hide a slight quiver of her lips that I can _just_ hear. “ _I’m not with anyone else.”_

Finally, finally letting the words fall free. Validating the idea that sat tipped in my head. Acknowledging what we both knew to be true.

I squeeze just a little tighter before letting her go. Letting go so I can actually see her. So I can see the face that looks so suddenly very truly nervous. As though we haven’t said other things. As though this particular statement should be so scary. (Maybe it is. Maybe I’m just not able, not ready, to hear what may lie beneath it.)

And I know, I know that in this moment, this instant, I need to meet her out on the ice. That this needs to happen the way we always seem to do. Taking our steps out into the danger together. (I still can’t help my own curiosity though. My own selfish desires.)

“Well…” She stands, an odd quarter step away, feet between feet. Threading one awkward index finger through my beltloop. The other hand just resting her fingertips on the edge of my hip bone. Eyes peering over my shoulder every so often in an expectant cycle. Continually checking. Comfortable and uncomfortable. Making me ever so nervous over the words I’m about to lay out. “…do you want me to give you back?”

Her eyes snap to focus. End their dance abruptly. Eyebrow raising incredulously. Immediate reaction. Instantaneous response.

“No.” She emphasizes by shaking her head. Her jaw set and hard. My chest feels a bit like bursting. My rib cage swelling under the affirmation. “I don’t want to go anywhere.” I’m about six inches from melting and taking every bit of strength just to hold myself together. Just to keep the outward appearance neutral. (I fail. Just a bit. The corner of my mouth a traitor.)

I twist my own fingers into the front waist of her shorts.

“Okay then.” An affirmative murmur. So full of everything I can’t craft into words yet.

“Okay then.” She repeats. Taking one last glance over my shoulder. Narrowing her eyes briefly before wrapping me close again. Lips pressing subtly to a sensitive spot at the side of my neck. (A spot we both so recently discovered.) “Bed then. I need to go and we both need to sleep.”

She steps back. Perfect emphasis. Finality.

“We definitely do.”

Both of us fight knowing grins while we’re wrapped in the fluorescence of the interior light.

“Goodnight Em.” She’s got that elusive wrinkle eyed smile. The good one. The rare one.

“Goodnight Kel.” I take two steps, swivel us around so my back is to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

She nods.

“Of course.”

She gives a small wave, just a little awkward, just a little bit adorable, (heartstring tugging) before ducking her head, both hands coming up to press her fingers into her pockets, before turning to walk away.

And as much as I want to say it, as much as I want to text her, I don’t. Because I’ve already pulled as much information as I feel comfortable with tonight. Still though, the thought remains. Past the front door. Up the stairs. Into the dark room and the tousled bedcovers that we never straightened out.

_Did she want to be taken?_

\---------------------------------------------------------

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The second hand on the clock on the wall has been goading us. Fast food wrappers strewn across the same tabletop that’s covered in books and notes and cords and phones. It’s too loud and it’s not loud enough. A break between keystrokes and silence and library white noise. Just enough to grate slowly on subconscious nerves.

_Tick. Tick._

It’s honestly hardly a surprise at all when Lindsey leans back with a hard sigh. Chair tipping to rest against the off-white plaster of the wall behind her. One foot coming to rest next to a sandwich wrapper.

She chucks her pen across the room haphazardly in frustration. It bounces off the door to the study room and lands with a soft _thunk_ against the carpet.

“There’s nothing left to say. I need two more pages and there’s nothing at all left to say.”

Sam subtly scoots her drink to a more secure position. Just glancing up briefly as she tries to finish a thought she’s writing down.

Barring the run for food, we’ve been holed up in this study room inside the library for most of the day. Taking advantage of a day without practice to work. Midterms and required library hours crashing down on us like a two ton anvil before fall break. I mean, even Lindsey’s here working and that should seriously say something.

“You sure? You talked about everything?” I’m trying vaguely to help, but I haven’t even taken history yet. I’ve got nothing in the tank to gift her with.

She rifles through her notes chaotically as though that will help before leaving it all to rest again.

“Guy comes into power, kills other guy, lots of people are upset, lots of other people die, blah blah blah. It’s basically a formula for history. And yes, yes I’ve talked about it all.” She runs her hands hard over her face before getting up to retrieve the pen she’d thrown.

Sam’s forehead wrinkles a bit in the way that it does when she’s having a thought.

“Well, I mean, it’s not like he’d assign something impossible? Why don’t you double check in your book and see if maybe there’s something you missed? Or, did you guys talk about something in class that maybe wasn’t mentioned in the book?”

She’s busy with her essay that’s due for Political Science. The same one I have to write at some point. The same one I would be writing now, bouncing ideas back and forth with her, if I weren’t distracted with the subtle buzz of my phone that’s stashed in my hoodie pocket.

_‘Just got done with Allie. Where are you?’_

It still feels like there’s an extra jump to my chest even now. Even though it’s been weeks. Like every time I see her name come up on my phone screen I can feel the skim of her fingertips on my skin and the shivers she makes with the way she breathes words into my ear.

All in my imagination. (All in my recollection.) Wishful thinking. (Just waiting for each chance we’re alone.)

“I feel like I’ve gone over everything. I mean…maybe I’m just brain dead by now. Why do we even have to finish all this crap early? Why can’t we just have it turned in at the end of break like everyone else?” It’s the most definitive whine I’ve ever heard from her.

_‘I’m in the library with Linds and Sam. Trying to finish papers. Lindsey’s started throwing things.’_

Phone out of sight. Below the level of my books. As though I’m paying perfect attention to the outburst. But I’m not. (It’s been harder lately. With my head so full of other things.) I’m imagining her now. Downcast freckles. Subtle smirk. Easy eyes. Confident saunter. Backpack thrown over one shoulder. (It doesn’t get old.)

“I mean at least it’ll be done?” I tear my eyes away from the screen. Away from my imagination. At least momentarily. Just enough to respond. To be the good friend. The responsible one. At least pretending like this matters. “Then we’ll just get to play our games and enjoy break while everyone else panics and does exactly what we’re doing now….but later. Besides, we’re gonna miss the two days everyone gets back when we’re in Georgia and that’s when everything is due. So.”

Lindsey quirks an eyebrow incredulously, waits a second, “Yeah, that…that doesn’t help me. Like, at all.”

The phone buzzes against fabric. Still out of their periphery.

_‘Oh. Do you need protection? Are you in danger of some crossfire?’_

“I mean she’s right…” Sam perks up a bit, fingers resting lightly on the keys of her laptop. Lindsey looks over and practically snorts in disapproval. “…I mean, you’re gonna do it one way or the other. If you paid more attention to your syllabus, you would have already started this ahead of time and it wouldn’t be such a time suck now.”

Lindsey rolls her eyes.

“Yes mom. You’re right mom.”

She stares blankly back at the pages she’s been reading through. Chewing on the pen she’d retrieved.

_‘Protection? No. You know I can handle myself. Company though? I would never pass up the opportunity to see you.’_

I’m trying hard to hold back the smile and failing. Knowing, just knowing, she’s probably already nearby or walking this way.

_‘Where in the lib?’_

_‘Main floor. Study room in the back by the newspaper stash thing.’_

_‘The microfilm?’_

_‘Yeah, whatever it’s called.’_

_‘See you soon : )’_

When I look back up they’re both staring at me.

“Getting a lot of work done over there?” Lindsey is reclined in her chair again. Hands up and resting on the back of her head. Laptop resting on the top of her legs. A playful accusation.

“Uh, yeah?”

“Unlikely.” Sam murmurs, pen stopped in the middle of taking some kind of note as she bounces between laptop and paper. “You know you should really put that on silent if you don’t expect us to hear it. We’re in a library, you can literally hear _everything_.”

I can feel the heat rise in my cheeks. Spread to the tips of my ears. But not in an overly grandiose way.

“Sorry?” Not that I really am. Not that I really mean that at all.

They just sigh. Like this is all old hat. Like this has all been done before. Like this is all routine.

The thing is, though. I can’t complain. (I don’t want to complain.) Because it is. It is all old news. This is a thing that just keeps happening. That I want to keep happening. That works so well for the two of us. Or at least for me.

“When’s Kelley coming?”

It’s Lindsey who asks.

My stomach roils but it’s in such a comfortable, familiar way. The way that says how okay I am with this. That speaks nothing of embarrassment. That warms with the way they just know now and they don’t even have to ask.

“Soon.”

She tips her chair back down so it rests flat on the floor. She has a distracted look momentarily.

“How’s that going by the way?” Innocent sounding. Purely curious. (It makes me suspicious.)

“…Good?” I can’t help the way it comes out sounding overly drawn out. Accusing. “Why?”

Sam casts a look over to Lindsey who stares straight back. They’re having some kind of silent conversation. Or maybe a disagreement. Some previous talk playing out again without the need for words.

It’s Sam who breaks it this time.

“We might have overheard something.”

Lindsey shoots her another look. One that definitely says _Stop. Don’t say anything else._

“What? When? What’d you overhear?”

Because this could be a million things, but it coming up now leaves an unwanted taste in my mouth.

“Alex.” She pauses. Thinks maybe. Shifts her eyes between Lindsey and myself. “Kelley.”

My skin is crawling in anticipation. In rapidly increasing need to know more. Prickling at the edges of my brain, trying ever so hard to figure out just what exactly could be important enough for the both of them to be making this some kind of big deal.

“And…?” I’m trailing off. Find I’ve unconsciously started leaning in when my phone goes clattering to the floor off my lap with the shift.

They share a look again. They look like at least one of them is about to open their mouth when the door opens abruptly and without warning.

_Speak of the devil and she shall appear._

“Well hello to all your beautiful faces.” I’m torn, eyes wanting to bore a hole through their brain to get the information, but also inevitably being drawn to the source. Eyes drawing across freckled cheeks to smiling eyes.

“Do you know anything about history?” Lindsey cuts across without missing a beat. As though nothing at all was just happening. “You only get to stay if you can help me.”

It’s an empty threat but it brings a warm chuckle out from her chest.

It both does and doesn’t distract me from what was happening before.

Kelley drops her bag next to the empty chair beside me and a small coffee on the table in front of me without a word. Smoothly and without bringing any attention to it. It has _Sonny_ scrawled across the side. What I can only guess is the same amazing coffee we got last weekend when we snuck away from the others for time spent alone.

My attention _is_ on it.

And it’s also not.

Magnified maybe by the fact that what I want to know about is now less than a foot from me.

“My dearest Horan,” her voice is silky sweet and goading. Pulling attention away from the hand that trails across the top of my shoulders as she passes around behind me. “It’s your lucky day.” She grins as she squats between Lindsey and I. Uses my knee to catch her balance. The smallest squeeze lighting a fire in my stomach before she innocently takes it away. “I don’t just know history, I took that class and aced it. Let me see what you’ve got.”

Which is when I hear my phone buzz. The hard, industrial carpet muffling it only slightly. Kelley quirks an eyebrow before she reaches down to pass it up to me.

“You should keep better track of your things. Who knows what you might find on there.…” She’s teasing, just poking around for that easy feeling and, really, it’s all so much of everything I want. Because, honestly, I know exactly what I’d find on there and not all of it is innocent. But this is more than that. Because while Lindsey has grabbed Kelley’s attention, Sam’s been typing away.

And now it’s waiting for me to read it.

_‘Alex was asking Kel about what’s going on with her. Directly. Kelley basically told her to stop trying to be her mom and to leave it alone. Whatever’s going on, it isn’t good for you.’_

Sam’s not paying attention when I finish reading. Or, at least, she plays as though she isn’t. Face downcast, fingers sweeping over keys on her laptop as she writes. She gives away nothing while I’m looking her over. Searching for more.

_‘Well what am I supposed to do about it?’_

Kelley’s eyes are slowly picking their way through Lindsey’s paper. Absorbing and correcting. Quietly mumbling to herself as she reads and questions. Preoccupied.

Sam reads her phone, tucked low into her lap where she sits cross legged. She doesn’t respond. Just looks up and over the screen. Her eyes say enough.

_‘It’s not my problem. I don’t care if she knows. You know that. This is Kelley’s secret. It’s not for me to say.’_

Even as I type it though, each keystroke seems to get a little more hesitant, I’m not sure I entirely believe it. At least. Not anymore.

Kelley’s eye slip up over Lindsey’s work. Catch with mine. Tug at the roiling ball in my stomach. Draw me back in. Tell me what I’m doing is the right thing. (At least for right now. _At least for right now._ ) Her lip tugs up just a hint before she returns to reading.

_‘It stopped being a Kelley problem when you lied to Alex.’_

It’s never been so direct. Never anything more than the inkling of a thought in the back of my brain in the quiet moments. A smattering of guilt dripping through like a leaky faucet. This time though, with the bold words, written out and staring back at me. This time it might actually hurt. Just a little bit.

_‘Kel asked me not to say anything. I can’t just go tell Alex after promising not to.’_

I don’t know if it’s the guilt, or if it’s the recognition that Sam is probably right, but something makes me want to push my responsibility in this away. (even if I know the truth.) Has me trailing eyes over Kelley. Head nodding gently while she and Lindsey talk History, while she points out the parts Lindsey overlooked. (Easily two pages worth.) Taking in the soft parts of her. The heavy dusting of freckles. The messy bun and stray hairs. The warmth she gives off. The way she radiates. (Is it only that way to me?)

_‘Tell her.’_

Sam’s face doesn’t give an inch. She’s made her point. Underlines it with a look. She turns away and back to her work. It’s a final period. She’s done this before with some of Lindsey’s problems. It means she’s done. She’s got nothing left to say.

I take the coffee cup in front of me. One thumb swiping over the name there. Feeling the thought put in. The gift. The weight of it.

I take a sip. It’s just starting to cool off. It’s still quite good. Perfect even. Just maybe. Kelley notices. There’s the hint of a smile again. It almost stops her mid-sentence. (Almost but not quite. It’s endearing.) She has to look away to focus. It’s stokes the fire she keeps burning into my chest.

I’m trying to imagine what it is exactly. Where the disconnect keeps happening. How I only ever see this Kelley. This Kelley who brings me coffee. Who helps Lindsey with her paper. Who’s spent the night each night for the last week with me. (Limbs wrapping around limbs. Convincing me to let her take the wall side.)

Not the one who leaves her room with a hard set jaw. Not the one who refuses to answer questions. Not the one who dodges Alex like she’s an active landmine.

Where does my responsibility in this all land?

I don’t know.

I pick at the corner of my thumb. A tiny piece of skin there.

I don’t know.

I haven’t worked on anything in at least a half hour.

I don’t know. I don’t know.

I tear the skin. A tiny droplet of blood wells. It doesn’t hurt. Too distracted to notice maybe.

_I don’t know._

Kelley tilts her head, eyebrow raises. She’s giving me that subtly suggestive look I’m getting so good at noticing. Nothing is wrong looking at her. But I’m seeing Sam. The corner of her mouth pinched in a frown.

I need a second. To breathe maybe. Just to have to myself without the other’s eyes. (Where did all this pressure come from?)

“I’ll be right back. Need to go to the bathroom real quick.”

They all look up. Face’s each a different question. Kelley’s asking if she should come. Sam’s asking if I’m running away now too. Lindsey, genuinely confused, wanting to know if I’m okay.

I hold up my thumb. The blood is a small bubble.

“Just need to grab a paper towel real quick. Clean this up before it ends up on my shirt or something.”

Kelley nods, flashes her _hurry back_ smile. Lindsey’s eyes do a quick dance. Trying to see the cracks. The stresses. What exactly is happening.

I don’t look at Sam. (She’s right. She’s too right.)

_I don’t know what to do._

Kelley’s an adult. (Not that I’m not.) She’s older than me. This is literally her issue to sort out.

It dawns on me when I’m about three steps out the door. Three steps out of the weight of that entire room. Out from the weight of each of my friends in there. (the good and the bad.)

It doesn’t matter if I know what to do or not. Eventually something has to give. And there’s no way for me to stay out of this. Not anymore. Not that I ever could. I can’t deny the truth right now.

The fact is… _I am the issue._


End file.
